Keepin' Christmas
by Whistlepig
Summary: Mingo's decision not to "Keep Christmas" with the Boones proves a costly one. A life-changing injury leads him to question the quality of his own existence.  And the only clue he can give Daniel as to his attackers are two voices and a giant pair of feet wearing ornately-beaded moccasins. This story would be set in Season Two of the TV series, after the episode, A Rope For Mingo.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"No, Daniel." Mingo's voice was quiet but firm. "The last time I was in Boonesborough, the settlers put a rope around my neck and tried to hang me. It is better that I stay away and avoid more trouble." His expression was an odd combination of stubbornness and regret.

"Becky and the young'uns are gonna be mighty disappointed. You know they're missin' you something fierce." Daniel filled the coffeepot with water and coffee and set it in the fire to boil.

"Yes, and the settlers will miss another opportunity to blame me if a chicken is missing, or the butter doesn't come quickly enough while churning, or if any other petty crime is committed by any Indian in the territory." The Cherokee's voice was bitter. He poked at the fire over which their supper was roasting. Over time, Mingo had taken on the cooking responsibilities since Daniel's meals were rarely edible. Tonight's meal would be rabbit and corn cakes. It wouldn't make a banquet, but it would be filling.

September had found the two exploring for new areas to trap during the winter. The one they had chosen for the winter's trapping was about five days' journey from Boonesborough. The place was unknown to either man, and they were glad to find what seemed to be pristine forest unclaimed by any settler or Indian tribe.

On a return trip in October, they hauled in supplies, set out traps and built the snug lodge that would be their home during the coldest part of the winter. The lodge was built along the designs the Cherokee Indians used, with branches and vines forming the framework with wattle and daub covering the outside. During the coldest part of the winter, animal hides would be thrown over the outside to keep in as much warmth as possible. A hole in the roof allowed smoke to rise; an animal skin flap served as a door. There were two low platforms covered in furs for sleeping, and plenty of room for storing their supplies. All in all, it was quite a comfortable place, but most of the winter would be spent outdoors. Unless the weather was bitterly cold, or if rain or snow were falling, both men preferred sleeping rough, on the ground outside.

"How're you gonna let the settlers get to know you if you ain't ever around?" Daniel asked, as he poured them each a cup of boiled coffee.

The Indian sipped his coffee and grimaced. From the taste of the coffee, it looked as if he would be adding one more thing to his cooking chores. "I am hoping my absence will make their hearts grow fonder," he said mildly.

"Well, like I said, Becky's plannin' on you comin' to keep Christmas with us; if I know her, she'll have been gettin' ready for weeks. I sure hate to be the one to tell her you ain't gonna be there." Daniel shook his head.

"Daniel," Mingo began, exasperated with his friend. Daniel had been, well, nagging was the only word Mingo could honestly use, for what seemed like weeks, in an effort to persuade him to return to Boonesborough. Mingo wasn't going to budge. "I thank you for your invitation, but I have declined. Many times! Short of being hog-tied and carried to Boonesborough, I do not plan on 'keeping Christmas' at all this year. One of us needs to stay here to safeguard the camp and work the trap lines. Your wife and children are expecting you to come home for Christmas. My people do not expect to see me again until the spring. I will stay here and 'mind the store' until you return."

Daniel had seen the Cherokee's obstinate side before. Weighing Mingo's mule-headedness against the disappointment of his wife and children, he tried again, "Mingo, when you were in England there must've been some pretty fancy doin's for Christmas. Something about keepin' Christmas you enjoyed. You know how important Christmas is to folks."

"Not to the Cherokee!" Mingo snapped. "The Christmas festivities I am familiar with were just another example of wretched excess. Those of 'blue blood' celebrated – twelve noisy days of dancing, drinking, overeating and debauchery. The lower classes were grateful to receive a basket of food, a few trinkets and a sovereign on Boxing Day. Daniel, I do not miss England, Christmas celebrations, or anything about my life before I returned home to Kentucky." The Cherokee blew on his mug of boiled coffee and risked another sip.

"Christmas ain't just drinkin', dancin' and debauchery, Mingo. It's a time of peace and goodwill, love and forgiveness." Daniel tasted his coffee and dumped his cup into the bushes.

"For what am I to be forgiven, Daniel?" Mingo scowled and dumped his cup out too.

"You need to forgive the people of Boonesborough for the way they've treated you and give 'em another chance to know and appreciate the person you are."

The Indian shook his head as he dumped out the rest of the coffee. "You know, Daniel, I believe I need to forgive you for trying to 'brew' the coffee."

***********

The skies were gray and overcast. It looked as if it might begin snowing at any time. Ten days before Christmas, Daniel gave up trying to persuade Mingo and decided to head for home. This was the only time he could remember that the Cherokee's stubbornness had won over his own. Surprised by Mingo's steadfast refusal, Daniel tried coaxing, cajoling, and in the end had used Becky's wish for the Indian's presence for Christmas, to plead his case. Daniel had never known Mingo to refuse Rebecca Boone anything she asked, but he was unyielding as stone in his refusal to return to Boonesborough.

"You sure you won't change your mind?" Daniel tried once more as he draped his powder horn and shot bag over his shoulder.

Mingo handed him a blanket roll and bag of food and shook his head. "Daniel, you are the most stubborn man I know. But I can be stubborn too! Please give my love to Rebecca and the children. I will see them in the spring. Tell Israel I will take him hunting when I return."

Daniel grinned. "I was countin' on that. When he ain't huntin' for arrowheads, he's badgerin' you to let him use your bow! That bow and the arrows you left are gonna be one of his favorite presents this Christmas. "

Mingo returned his grin. "Yes, I will make sure the boy learns to use them properly. You palefaces just can't seem to shoot an arrow the way the red man can."

Daniel slapped the Indian on the back and shook his hand. "Well, Merry Christmas to you, Mingo. Make sure you keep yourself outta trouble while I'm gone. I always worry about you when I ain't around to pull your feathers outta the fire."

Mingo's smile flashed across his face. "Daniel, you wound me. Am I not always careful?"

Daniel grinned back, "Mingo, what you call 'careful', other men would call foolhardy. I'll see you in the New Year." He settled his pack on his back, hefted Tick Licker and started off for home. "If you should change your mind," he called back over his shoulder, "you know the route I'll be takin'."

Mingo laughed and waved. "I won't change my mind. Godspeed, Daniel, and a Happy Christmas to you too."

**********

The Cherokee stood watching as the big man left. Daniel's long legs ate up the ground and he traveled at a good pace. Mingo glanced up at the sky and guessed from the gathering clouds that a blizzard was coming. It was only a few hours past daylight. He might fix a decent pot of coffee and then begin walking the trap lines. The traps were strung out for almost 20 miles; it would be a long, cold day's walk. It would also keep his mind off what he had refused - the invitation to spend Christmas with the Boones.

The temperature was dropping sharply. The frigid wind felt like frozen needles on his exposed skin, another sign of a coming blizzard. Mingo sat close to the fire while he sipped his coffee, deep in thought. Absent-mindedly, he broke up bits of kindling and tossed them into the fire.

As a Cherokee warrior, he prided himself on his self-reliance. He could run, hunt, shoot, and fight with the best of the warriors in his village. As an Englishman, he had received the finest education that Oxford University and his father's money could provide for him. Still, he yearned to fit in. "Neither fish nor fowl, nor good red meat," one of his tutors had declared him. Respected by his mother's people, he wanted as well to fit in with the white settlers of Boonesborough. Instead the settlers distrusted him because he was a half-breed. "Half Injun, half Redcoat," he had heard himself described many times. He knew Daniel Boone's friendship had spared him from grief and trouble on more than one occasion, but still, in a perverse way, he didn't want Daniel's acceptance to be the only thing that made him welcome in Boonesborough. He wanted acceptance because he was himself, Mingo.

He smiled as he considered his preparations for the Christmas he hadn't intended keeping: He had left his entire credit for the previous winter's pelts with Cincinnatus, and given the old tavern keeper his Christmas shopping list months before. There was a new steel knife for Daniel, and lead soldiers for Israel all from Salem. A chain and locket for Jemima. A gold pin for Rebecca Boone. The older man had agreed to deliver these gifts on Christmas Eve. The Cherokee's gift to Cincinnatus had been shag tobacco from Virginia for his pipe. When Cincinnatus pointed out the cost of these gifts, Mingo shook his head and insisted he needed only enough money to buy shot and powder. He needed nothing else for himself that the woods couldn't provide.

His mind insisted on returning to the idea of Christmas in Boonesborough. With the Boones. He wasn't even sure why he had refused Daniel's invitation to "keep Christmas" with his family. He loved the Boones. There, he had said it. Admitted it to himself . The Boone cabin was the only place in the settlement where he felt entirely welcome, not merely tolerated. He had told Rebecca Boone early in their acquaintance that trying to reconcile his Indian self with the Englishman he had been raised to be made him a confusion to himself. A confusion indeed! He didn't understand his own feelings. Why should the acceptance of the white settlers seem so important to him?

Mingo shook himself and laughed at his own thoughts. Foolishness. Wishing for what could not be.

He rose to his feet, picked up his gun and set off to check the traps. As he walked, lost in thought, the snow began falling. The morning hours passed quickly, following the trap lines. He and Daniel had walked these lines a few times already; the route was familiar. To the best of their knowledge, there were no Indian tribes in the area; no white settlers had traveled this far. He was alone in the silent forest with the blizzard and his thoughts. The traps were empty. Either nothing had been lured into the traps, or someone had already emptied them. As the morning went on, he became aware that there were signs that the traps had been tampered with. Several traps had been sprung, but were empty. Others had tufts of fur clinging, but no animal carcasses. This meant that human hands had been at work here.

Suddenly, an arrow embedded itself in the tree next to his head. Cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings, he dove for cover behind a fir tree. Cautiously he raised his head to try to see his attacker. His gun was primed and loaded; when Daniel Boone had taught him how to use his rifle properly, he emphasized that an unloaded weapon was like having NO weapon. His bull whip had been left behind in the lodge. A bull whip was no weapon against an enemy you could not see.

A second arrow caught him in the back and threw him face first into the snow.

Pain. Instant agony.

The world was spinning around in a throbbing haze. He could hear voices approaching, making no effort to hide themselves.

"I know you shot something, Tommy. I seen it drop." The voice belonged to a white man.

"Here it is!" exulted another, younger voice. Suddenly, joy turned to panic. "Lookee here, Billy. This ain't no elk - I got me an Injun!" The owner of the voice loomed over him.

A foot caught Mingo in the ribs and he was rolled onto his side. The movement pushed the arrow deeper into his shoulder. The sudden sharp stab made his head swim as he tried to look up at his attacker. Between the snow falling, and the red veil of pain, Mingo could barely make out the speaker's face. He focused instead on what he could see: a highly decorated pair of moccasins adorning a huge pair of feet.

"It ain't just any Injun," the first voice announced. "It's Boone's Injun! Tarnation, Tommy, if Daniel Boone finds out you shot his Injun, he'll come after you and kill you!"

The voice called Billy squatted next to Mingo as he lay in the wet snow. "Maybe Boone won't kill you if he don't know you're the one shot him," the voice continued reasonably. "It ain't like you done it a-purpose. We was only huntin'. In the snow, this Injun looked like an animal. Can't fault a man for bein' hungry."

"Well, he sure can fault us for stealin' his furs and near killin' his Injun. I never woulda trifled with those traps if I'da knowed they was Boone's! We can't leave him here like this," the voice called Tommy said in worried tones.

"Sure we can," Billy's voice was cheerful. "We didn't see no sign of Boone nohow. I reckon this here Injun's all alone. Lookee how the arrow's stickin' out of his back. Probably bleed to death afore Boone comes back and starts sniffin' around for him." Billy punctuated his comments with a few more kicks to Mingo's ribs.

"You reckon so?" asked Tommy. "We could carry him back to that lodge we found."

"Tommy, use your head! Why waste time carryin' him back to his camp? We ain't gonna nursemaid him! We been stealing furs from his traps. He's probably trappin' with Boone. Boone might overlook us stealin' his furs. He sure ain't gonna overlook us killin' his Injun."

Mingo felt a hand close on the arrow in his shoulder and give a vicious tug. He struggled to remain conscious, but the aching was so overwhelming, even breathing was difficult. "He'd probably die if we tried to pull this arrow out anyhow. The way it's stuck in his back – I think it's the only thing keepin' him from bleedin' to death."

The feet belonging to Billy shifted as he rose to his feet. "Tommy, it'll be weeks 'fore Boone comes back if he's gone home for Christmas. I sure do hate to see an animal suffer – even an Injun," he said mockingly. "I reckon the only thing to do is kill him. Just put him out of his mis'ry."

A rifle butt caught Mingo at the base of his skull, his head exploded with pain, and there was nothing more.

*********************


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He was cold, almost frozen with cold. Mingo couldn't imagine why Daniel would have let the fire burn out. It was almost evening, the fire should have been blazing, supper cooking, coffee brewing. Instead he was lying out in the open, covered with a layer of snow. He could barely feel his fingers or toes. He squinted at the overcast sky and guessed he had been unconscious for several hours. He shifted and groaned as what felt like a knife stabbed him in his back. Then it all came back to him. Two trappers named Tommy and Billy were raiding Daniel's and his trap lines. They claimed to have shot him thinking he was an animal, but then, having shot him, left him to die alone in the forest. Mingo tried to move. He managed to get to his knees before he fell forward onto his face again. He lay there panting until the world stopped whirling and tried to think.

The trappers were right on one point. It would be weeks before Daniel returned. It was very unlikely that he would be alive on Daniel's return, especially without medical help and being unable to hunt or find water. The arrow seemed to be embedded deep in the muscle of his right shoulder. That fact might work in his favor and keep him from bleeding to death. On the other hand, there was no way he could remove it himself. He considered his options. The camp might have food if the thieving trappers had left any, but he was at least two hours from the lodge. He wasn't sure he had the strength to travel back to the lodge, and besides, if the two had raided their camp, there wouldn't be any supplies or food to return for. He would have to try to follow Daniel, to catch up to him, and let Daniel doctor his wound. The pain in his back warred with a mental image of the Boone cabin. A fire, the aroma of Rebecca's cooking, the laughter of Jemima and Israel. Keeping Christmas with the Boones. The idea seemed incredibly appealing. Warmth. Joy. Light. Happiness.

Mingo laughed raggedly; the irony of the situation was not lost on him. "Well, Daniel, it looks as if I have been talked into it. If I live long enough to catch up with you, I will be happy to keep Christmas with the Boones."

**********

Daniel Boone replaced his 'coonskin cap and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Four hours into his journey, he had paused for a drink. His thoughts kept returning to the mule-headed Cherokee he left behind.

"I've half a mind to head back to camp, hog-tie Mingo and carry him just like he said," Daniel muttered to himself.

Becky, his red-haired firebrand wife, would be furious with him if he arrived without Mingo. There wasn't much the big man feared, but Becky Boone's temper was at the top of his list, right up there with famine, pestilence and Indian attack. Daniel wasn't sure what role Mingo filled for "Rebecca", as the Cherokee always called her. He praised Becky's cooking, and ate heartily. Daniel joked that Mingo could smell the aroma of Becky's Irish stew from 20 miles away. Daniel knew that when he was away, Mingo could be depended upon to look after the Boone family. Mingo kept meat on the table. Even though wood chopping and water carrying were chores the typical Cherokee male would have been mortified to perform, the water buckets and wood box were always full when Becky needed them and Mingo did these things with good cheer. For the peaceable man Mingo claimed to be, he certainly kept Becky busy patching him up. Right after Becky and Mingo had met, Daniel's Irish wife tended to the Indian when Mingo's own brother tried skinning him alive with his bullwhip. And heaven knew, Mingo had kept Becky in the doctoring business ever since.

Israel would pout. Mingo was the only one of Israel's acquaintances who was willing to read stories by the hour, show him over and over how to set a snare, or shoot an arrow from a bow. Mingo always had time to listen to the little boy's confidences. He made sure that Israel's chores were done properly. When Becky threw up her hands in despair over trying to teach Israel his letters, Mingo would laugh and take over. Mingo's lessons were ones Israel was glad to learn.

Jemima would miss the Cherokee too. Mingo told her stories of London or quoted Shakespeare or poetry for 'Mima. Mingo never failed to notice and compliment a new hair style, a ribbon or a new dress, providing the masculine admiration a blossoming young lady's ego needed.

Mingo's patience and good nature seemed limitless. Although Mingo was a quiet person, Daniel knew that if the situation warranted, he was a formidable opponent, fierce and capable with a gun, knife, or the bullwhip he always carried. On the opposite side of the coin, Daniel had always found him a pleasant companion, willing to undertake any endeavor at Daniel's side.

Daniel could barely remember when Mingo hadn't been his "brother". It seemed as if he and Mingo had sized each other up at first meeting and instantly recognized a friend.

Daniel remembered it clearly. George Washington had sent him and Yadkin into the Kentucky wilderness to find a site for a new fort. Daniel and Yadkin saved Mingo from a band of Shawnee intent on taking his scalp. In return, the tall English-speaking Indian showed them the perfect location for Boonesborough. When he and Mingo were taken prisoner by the Shawnee, he'd helped Mingo to escape, but the Cherokee had returned, at great risk to himself, to rescue Daniel. The two of them ran almost 60 miles back to Ft. Cumberland to warn the settlers there of an impending attack by Shawnee, Wyandot, Creek and Iroquois.

"We like to ran the soles off our moccasins," Daniel chuckled to himself.

When Yadkin followed his Donna back to the Carolinas, Mingo filled the hole Yadkin left in Dan's life in his own quiet way. Though Yadkin and Mingo were warm friends, Mingo never became as close to Yadkin as he was to Daniel. Yad couldn't quite trust Mingo. Yadkin just couldn't accept that Mingo was exactly what he seemed – someone who saw both the Indian's and settler's point of view, whose only wish was to see the red man and white live in peace.

Daniel wasn't sure if Yadkin's reluctance was because of Mingo's English father. Yad frequently commented he wasn't sure if it was worse being half Injun or half Redcoat. Daniel knew that, while Yadkin made the comments in jest, they hurt Mingo deeply. Daniel also knew that Mingo believed the rest of Boonesborough felt as Yadkin did. Problem was, Mingo was right; they did, for the most part. On any given day, any one of the settlers would have hanged the Cherokee, and two more would have been glad to help.

Daniel was worried. He trusted his own instincts enough to know that the prickling feeling on the back of his neck meant something was wrong. It was only four hours back to their camp. Plenty long enough for Mingo to have gotten his stubborn Cherokee self into something he couldn't handle. Daniel sighed, hefted Tick Licker and headed back in the direction he had come.

**********

The snow changed to sleet. Mingo woke as suddenly as if his face had been slapped by the icy fingers of the wind. As he shifted and tried to move, the sleet trickled down his neck adding to his misery. Wondering how long he had been unconscious, Mingo dragged himself to his feet. He waited until the ground stopped rocking beneath his feet and the fire in his back subsided somewhat. His head was still pounding like Cherokee drums, and probing gingerly, he found a large lump on the back of his head. His ribs were throbbing as if someone had danced on them. He bent over to pick up his long rifle and fell to his knees. He used the gun to push himself upright again, and staggered off in the direction Daniel had gone.

**********

Daniel's feeling of urgency intensified until he found himself breaking into the lope he used to cover long distances without tiring. He made even better time going back in spite of the snow piling up.  
The snowflakes were just changing to sleet when Daniel noticed the first signs of blood on the icy trail he followed. Daniel slowed as he came to tree with an arrow deep in its trunk. He pulled the arrow out, broke it in two and stuck it in his pack.

"This set of prints is Mingo's; I'd recognize those skinny feet anywhere. Layin' in the snow long enough to bleed this much – coupla hours, I'd say." Daniel circled the clearing searching for more signs of his friend. There were two more sets of prints. "Reckon these are the biggest moccasins I ever seen – man who owns 'em must be 9 feet tall! Don't look like Indian moccasins; other feller's in boots. If these ain't Indians, why're they usin' arrows?" Daniel continued crossing and recrossing the clearing, thinking out loud, "Why in tarnation didn't they help Mingo? Then again, why didn't they kill him if they took the trouble to shoot him?" Daniel bent and examined the double set of footprints more closely. "Headed away from our camp; wonder if they robbed it?" He shook his head, as he found Mingo's faltering prints again. "His feathers ain't pointin' straight up," Daniel told himself. "His head ain't clear. He's tryin' to head for Boonesborough." Daniel couldn't help chuckling, "Reckon he changed his mind about keepin' Christmas after all."

**********

Darkness was falling fast. Daniel hurried along as he followed Mingo's trail. An occasional spatter of blood confirmed that he needed to hasten. As the moon rose, it helped him keep to the trail. The trail ended abruptly in a small clearing illuminated by moonlight. Daniel saw what looked like a mound of snow slumped up against a tree. Then he caught sight of two bedraggled turkey feathers.

" Mingo."

Daniel almost groaned the name as he hurried to the slumped figure. Daniel knelt before the form. Long black hair gleamed in the moonlight. Ice had formed on his hair and eyelashes. He lifted the head and felt for a pulse under the chin. Alive. Daniel brushed snow off Mingo's wind-burned face.

"Mingo, it's Daniel. Can you hear me?" Daniel gave a sigh of relief as Mingo's eyes opened.

The Cherokee lifted his head. His coppery skin looked gray in the moonlight, "Daniel . . ."

"Seems like I can't leave you alone for a day. What happened?"

"I changed my mind . ." Mingo tried to sit up straighter and bit off an anguished groan.

"Changed your mind?" Daniel brushed the snow off Mingo and examined the arrow sticking out of his back.

"About keeping Christmas . . ." Mingo said faintly.

"Good thing I came back for you then, ain't it?"

"I need to get the arrow out, but it'll smart a mite." Daniel told Mingo.

"A mite?" Mingo was almost sitting in the fire Daniel had built, still shivering with cold. His deerskin coat steamed as the ice on it melted. The long shaft of the arrow was grotesque as it protruded from his back. He was a picture of misery clutching the ribs the fur thieves had kicked.

"Maybe a bit more than a mite," Daniel admitted. The big man was somber, "It's in pretty deep. Arrowhead looks like a big one from the hole in your jacket."

"Get it out, Daniel," Mingo advised, through clenched teeth. "Just push it through!"

"You in a hurry?" Daniel said grinning. "If I don't cut the fletches off before I push it through, you'll have a hole in your back big enough for an owl to roost in!"

Mingo glared at the big man. "Daniel, please-" he began, but Daniel interrupted..

"Now, hold on, Mingo – this is gonna hurt plenty."

Mingo grinned in spite of himself, "You've gone from 'smarting a mite' to 'hurting plenty'. Daniel, that doesn't bode well for your skill as a surgeon!"

Daniel used his knife on the arrow, then laid the knife in the fire, while the Indian caught his breath.

"Pretty bad, huh?" Daniel said sympathetically as he showed the feathered portion of the arrow to Mingo.

"I am sure I have hurt worse," Mingo said. "I just can't remember when." His teeth flashed in a grin, then he grimaced in pain.

Daniel rummaged through his kit. Becky had included packets of plants, herbal remedies and clean bandaging, as she always did when he and Mingo traveled together. She frequently commented that they attracted trouble like honey drew flies.

"You ready?" Daniel had managed to get Mingo's arm out of his coat. One slice of the knife and Mingo's deerskin jerkin fell open.

"As ready as I will ever be," Mingo replied, gritting his teeth against the pain he knew would follow. He nodded to Daniel to indicate his readiness and urged, "Daniel, I can certainly stand it if you can!"

"Here goes," said Daniel. He pushed hard on the arrow's shaft. There was a sickening sound as the arrow broke through muscle and skin, a soft grunt from Mingo, and a fresh gush of blood. Daniel caught the unconscious Indian before he toppled into the fire and eased him to the ground.

"That went well," Daniel said drily.

Daniel had the poultice and bandages ready.

**********

Mingo stirred and groaned. It was early morning. He wondered if a tree had fallen on him. He tried to sit up, but sank back as a wave of nausea overtook him. "I hope you saved the arrowhead for Israel," he muttered without opening his eyes.

"He'll have a matched set," Daniel chuckled, bringing the other arrowhead out of his pack. and showing it to Mingo. "Just like the one I got outta you."

Mingo forced his eyes open and surveyed the arrowhead. It was a war arrow, larger than usual and intended for causing major damage. "A war arrow," he murmured and closed his eyes again.

Daniel couldn't help teasing. "It was mighty thoughtful of you to keep an eye out for arrowheads for the boy. Never thought you'd go to the trouble of catchin' one in your back!"

Mingo groaned and shot Daniel a dirty look.

Daniel extended a long arm and helped him to a sitting position. He tucked the blanket around Mingo and poured him out a cup of coffee. "Feelin' pretty poorly, are you?"

"I have felt worse." Mingo admitted. "but I cannot recall when."

Mingo accepted the coffee mug and sipped its contents with caution. It was better than usual.

Daniel offered him a chunk of roasted meat. "Do you know who shot you? Or why?"

"Two men. Tommy and Billy. They raided our camp. Stealing our pelts and emptying our traps. They said they were hunting and shot me by mistake." Something nagged at his memory, but his head was pounding too hard to pursue the thought. Mingo shook his head at the meat. His stomach was roiling and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep down Daniel's "coffee".

"Huntin' for trouble, seems like," Daniel said. "That's quite a goose egg on the back of your head."

"That was to put me out of my misery. They seemed quite concerned that you should not find out who shot 'your Injun'." Mingo's smile was grim. "It seems more like adding insult to injury."

"White men?" Daniel repeated, surprised. Mingo nodded and winced at the ache in his head. Daniel continued, "Why would white men be hunting with arrows? And why use war arrows instead of hunting arrows?"

Mingo attempted a shrug and winced again. "Ironic, is it not, Daniel? Being shot by white men using bows and arrows."

Daniel shook his head, "Shot and left for dead. And here I thought you said palefaces couldn't shoot an arrow," Daniel flashed a grin. "Well, it'll keep 'til we get back. Think you can travel?" Daniel rose to his feet, dumped out the coffee pot and stamped out the fire.

"Travel?" the Cherokee asked as Daniel helped him to his feet. He stood swaying, but managed to remain upright.

"Keepin' Christmas with Becky and the young'uns. I'm still goin'. Looks like you're goin' too. It's quite a hike. Do I need to hog-tie and carry you or can you stay on your feet?"

"I'll manage. I have walked farther, feeling worse."

"We'll go slow and take it easy. See how it goes. If I have to carry you, I guess I can."

Mingo pulled the blanket around his shoulders and accepted Daniel's offered arm.

"Christmas is waiting," Mingo said, smiling. "Let's go." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Rebecca Bryan Boone sat in her rocking chair staring into the flames in the fireplace.

Jemima and Israel had gone to bed protesting hours before. Israel wanted to wait for his Pa and Mingo. Christmas Eve was approaching and Daniel and Mingo should have returned days before. Even if the trapping was going well, the two should be home for Christmas. Daniel had promised they would return in time, and a promise from Daniel Boone was a promise kept, she knew.

She sipped her cup of tea and considered the situation. She suspected that Mingo would be reluctant to return to Boonesborough after his near-hanging early in the fall, and wondered if his reticence might be the cause of the delay, or perhaps the weather. The recent blizzard had lasted for days, days when she could only just find her way to the well to draw water. She feared that the men might have gotten lost. Then she smiled at her own foolishness; Daniel Boone never admitted to being lost. The nearest he had ever been to being lost, he said, was once when he was bewildered for three days.

She went over her Christmas preparations in her mind. There would be boughs of evergreen on the mantel and the window sills. Scraps of red ribbon saved from previous Christmases would decorate the greenery. Beeswax candles had been hoarded through the year to burn smokelessly through the festivities. Cincinnatus brought promised supplies earlier while Jemima and Israel were distracted by chores. Becky managed to bake and hide a Christmas pudding redolent with fruit and spices and made from precious white sugar. There was a piece of beef from a cow one of the settlers at Boonesborough owned that had fallen victim to a bear. Cows were scarce, and the loss of one was a blow for its owner, but Becky was looking forward to roast beef for Christmas dinner. All the Boones were tired of dried and salted venison. There was wheat flour to make a Yorkshire pudding, something she remembered reading about in a book of cookery.

Becky had made a new dress for Jemima, and shirts for Israel and Dan. There was a book of sonnets for Jemima and a Jew's harp for Israel that Dan brought back from one of his trips to Salem. A child-sized bow and arrows that Mingo made for Israel before he and Dan left to go trapping. There was a locket and chain for Jemima, a gift from Mingo. Becky didn't know how or where he had managed to come by such a dainty thing in the wilderness, but he had done it, and Becky blessed him for it. It was perfect for a young lady like Jemima and she would love it.

Becky often found herself thinking of Mingo as a beloved family member, not just a friend. He was in for a surprise, Becky thought, smiling. The Boones had managed to find a copy of Mr. Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" and Becky and the children were looking forward to hearing Mingo read to them in his melodious voice. She wondered if Israel would be able keep the secret.

It had been a mighty lonesome autumn without Daniel and Mingo. The hour was creeping on towards midnight and Becky was torn. Should she go to bed, or continue to wait for Dan and Mingo? Her woman's intuition bade her to wait just a while longer. She drank another cup of tea and got out her Bible. The well-worn treasure fell open to the familiar pages and she began to read from the Psalms. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help? My help cometh even from the Lord . . ."

"Mingo," Daniel said again, "Let me carry you."

The Cherokee shook his head stubbornly. "Daniel, I have told you I can travel perfectly well," he panted. His face was beaded with sweat. With his arm around Mingo's waist supporting him, Daniel could feel how hard his friend was shivering. Snow was still falling briskly, and Daniel himself was having some trouble slogging through.

"Then let's sit and have some coffee. I need to catch my breath, and warm up," Daniel added persuasively.

Mingo shook his head again, and gave him a stern look. "Daniel, if Tommy and Billy are following us, we dare not stop so often for coffee. Smoke from a fire will attract their attention. I assure you I am in no need of rest." Mingo's glare relaxed into a impish grin as he added, "In any case, your coffee is usually undrinkable. It is certainly not worth stopping for!"

"Mingo," Daniel retorted. "That ain't the first time you've complained about my coffee! So happens Becky slipped a twist of tea into my pack."

"Ah, tea!" Mingo's teeth flashed in a weak smile. "That would be quite different!"

Before Mingo was certain how it had happened, Daniel had him settled under a tree, wrapped in both blankets, a tin cup of hot tea in his good hand.

They had been walking for most of the day, with Mingo's steps growing progressively slower. Daniel was now carrying both packs and rifles, supporting most of Mingo's weight. The rest stops Daniel insisted on were becoming more frequent and lasting longer. If the renegade trappers were indeed following, they would have no trouble overtaking Daniel and Mingo. Though Mingo did not complain, Daniel knew his friend was losing blood and weakening quickly. They needed to get back to Boonesborough as soon as possible.

Daniel glanced over his shoulder. Mingo was drowsily sipping the hot tea. Daniel's disappearance into the trees went unnoticed. He used his tomahawk to hack down enough young saplings and hurriedly constructed a travois. Leaving it just out of Mingo's sight, Daniel crouched near him. Daniel's hand on his shoulder made the wounded Indian wake with a wince.

Daniel smiled encouragingly, "Mingo-"

As Mingo glanced up at him, Daniel clipped him on the chin, hard. The Cherokee sank back unconscious and unaware as Daniel lifted him and bundled him onto the travois. Traveling would be much faster now, Daniel thought ruefully. He hated the trick he'd played on his friend, and hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt him someday.

**********

Becky jumped as there came a pounding on the cabin door. Israel's head popped over the loft as he squealed "Father Christmas!"

"Go back to sleep – it's too soon for Father Christmas!" she scolded.

"It's me, Becky," came a familiar voice as she hurried to the door. "Open the door!" Jemima and Israel scampered down the ladder from the loft.

Becky hurried to open the door, only to be confronted by familiar blue linsey-woolsey-clad legs draped over her husband's shoulder. "Dan, what in the world . . ." she began.

Her husband looked weary, "If'n I'm Father Christmas," he said. "then Black Peter here has had a mite of trouble. Help me get him inside, Becky."

He ducked inside with his burden. "Mingo said I'd have to hog-tie him and carry him to get him to come back to the settlement, and he was half right. I dragged him most of the way."

The big man was exhausted.

Becky took a good look at her husband. "Dan, you look worse than Mingo!"

Jemima and Israel rushed to yank down the blankets and Daniel dropped Mingo lightly onto the bed. Becky helped pull off his coat. She gasped at the bloodstains on the front and back. "Jemima, get me some spirits and some hot water. What happened, Dan?"

"He took an arrow in the back from a couple of thieves working our trap-lines, Becky. It was a big arrowhead, a war arrow – we saved it for you, Israel." Daniel gestured to his pack. "There's another in here just like it – found it in a tree."

"An arrow!" Becky said as she began cutting away bandages. "It's an evil looking wound!" She cleaned the blood and seepage away and began removing the clumsy poultice Daniel had applied. The wounds, shoulder and back, were large and still oozing. Her hands were gentle as she daubed the ragged holes with Cincinnatus' special Blue Thunder. Becky was rewarded by a yelp from Mingo, now awake and regarding her with a baleful eye.

"And a Happy Christmas to you, too, Rebecca Boone!" Mingo said through clenched teeth. "Please don't bother – I will be fine."

Daniel took the jug from her hand, "Becky, just let him sip on it instead." Mingo rolled his eyes at Daniel, but drank obediently. His hand went to his midsection; Becky slapped his hand away and began unwrapping bandages.

She winced at the lurid bruises around Mingo's midsection. "And these?"

Daniel shrugged, "Reckon they tried stompin' him to death too."

Becky caught sight of the bruise on Mingo's chin. "This?" She shot Daniel a gimlet-eyed look.

Daniel flushed. "That's where he ran into my fist," he muttered. "Had to talk him into ridin' in the travois." Becky's response was an unladylike snort.

"Mingo, what happened?" asked Israel, his eyes wide at the arrowhead his father handed him.

"I have not been as good as I might have been this year," Mingo said, sagging back against the pillows with a sigh. "Black Peter rewarded me for my naughtiness with an arrow instead of a switch."

"Aw, Mingo, who's Black Peter?" begged Israel.

"Back to bed, Israel Boone!" his mother said in a voice that left no room for argument. "Jemima Boone, you march right back up that ladder. Your Pa and Mingo will both be right here in the morning. March!"

Jemima and Israel both began climbing the ladder to the loft with much protestation.

************

Rebecca Boone woke with a start, wondering why she was sitting in a rocking chair next to the spare bed instead of lying in her own warm bed with her husband. She remembered her intentions of sitting up with Mingo. The spare bed was empty. She scanned the cabin quickly. Empty. She hurried to her own sleeping alcove.

"Dan," she shook her slumbering husband awake, "Dan, it's Mingo!"

Her husband woke at once, wide awake, "He been aggravatin' you, Becky?"

"He's gone!" she said, worried.

"He can't have gone far, Becky. He's half nekkid and barefoot too," Daniel pointed out.

He moved quietly to the door of the cabin and opened it. "Mingo?"

The Cherokee was standing on the porch, leaning against a post. His head was back and he was watching the snowflakes swirling past. He seemed unaware of his bare feet and lack of clothing.

"It's all right, Becky," Daniel said as he stepped out into the night. "He's right here. Mingo?"

He seemed surprised to see Daniel. "Daniel . . ." He was sweating in spite of the frigid air and swayed where he stood.

He allowed Rebecca to wrap a blanket around him. She scolded, "Mingo, you're burning up with fever! You'll take a chill!"

Daniel caught the Indian as his knees folded. "Becky, help me get him back to bed."

**************

By morning, it was obvious that Mingo was very ill. Becky spent most of the rest of the night trying to coax him to sip a syrup she had brewed of boneset and feverwood, bathing his face with cool water to bring down the fever. He tossed and muttered, struggling to breathe, coughing. His hair was damp; his face wore a sheen of perspiration.

Daniel and Jemima prepared breakfast but Becky was too worried to eat. "Ma," coaxed Jemima. "I'll sit with him. It won't do anybody any good if you're sick too, 'specially with Christmas comin'."

"Becky, come sit and eat." Daniel urged. "'Mima can do that. I'll head for the fort. You just sit tight. I'll bring Cincinnatus back fast as I can."

He shrugged into his coat and 'coonskin cap, and shouldered his gun. In less than half an hour he was back with the tavern keeper.

"Dan'l told me what happened, Becky." the older man said. "Feelin' poorly, is he?" Cincinnatus doffed his outerwear, and stepped to the bedside. He laid an experienced hand on Mingo's hot forehead, and then began unwrapping the bandage from his shoulder. The old tavern keeper pursed his lips. "Becky, Dan'l, I'll be honest. This is one sick Injun you got here. I don't know how he managed to walk back here to your cabin."

"Well, I pretty much carried him part ways and dragged him the rest," allowed Daniel with a small grin. "He wasn't keen on comin' back to Boonesborough."

"Can't say as I blame him, but whether he wanted to come or not, he'da been dead for sure if you hadn't drug him back." Cincinnatus shook his head. Under the first layer of cloth, the wound was suppurating and red streaks radiated from the hole in his back. "Reckon you'd better help me, Dan'l," the older man said, his expression somber.

Jemima and Israel sat at the table, making a show of eating, but doing nothing more than pushing food around on their plates. Becky hurried back and forth between the kitchen and the bed bringing bandages, a basin of water, a jug of spirits, and then a sterilized knife. She caught Jemima's eye and jerked her head toward the ladder.

Jemima tugged at Israel's hand, forced a smile and said, "Let's go up to the loft, and we'll play with your marbles. Cincinnatus is here; everything'll be all right now."

Israel nodded, his eyes large and frightened, and allowed Jemima to lead him to the ladder. The curtains were drawn closed around the bed holding Mingo. Some minutes later, the children heard a sharp cry of pain. Jemima burst into tears. Israel patted her shoulder, and gestured to the knothole in the floor the youngsters used for spying on the doings downstairs. She sniffed and nodded, and Israel removed the knot and pressed his eye against the floor. His father was holding Mingo up while Cincinnatus looked grim and pressed a cloth against the blood flow.

"Cincinnatus had to open up that hole in Mingo's back again. Pa's holding him steady." Israel looked back over his shoulder at Jemima, and whispered, "He's bleedin' somethin' awful."

Jemima looked sick. Israel replaced the knot in the floor, and sat on the bed without speaking. Several minutes later, Daniel stood at the foot of the ladder calling the children.

"Come down, 'Mima, Israel."

They crept down the ladder and hesitated. Cincinnatus stepped out of the alcove wiping his hands on one of Becky's kitchen towels. He was saying to Becky, "You just keep a poultice on it, and we'll let it drain itself out. Started mortifyin'," the old man made tsking noises. "Reckon bein' half froze didn't help neither!"

"Pa," Israel began. "I ain't never heard Mingo holler like that before!" The boy peeked around the curtain to where his mother was busy again with mortar and pestle grinding some of her remedies into another poultice. While she worked, she kept half an eye on Mingo. He looked somehow defenseless without his feathers and bead necklace, Israel thought mournfully.

"It hurt somethin' powerful." Daniel patted Israel's shoulder. "He'll come 'round pretty soon."

Israel's lip quivered, and Jemima was still crying, silent tears running down her cheeks. It wasn't the first time their ma and pa had doctored Mingo; living on the frontier, serious injuries were all too common. He had managed to sustain and recover from what seemed like more than his fair share.

This was the first time they wondered if their friend would die.

"Smile, young'uns," said their Pa. "It's still Christmas!"

"Cincinnatus, is he gonna be all right?" Israel begged.

"I reckon he'll pull through this. We'll see how today goes. I might still have a trick up my sleeve." He winked at the child, and turned to Rebecca.

"Becky, you got any moldy wheat bread?"

"Cincinnatus, it's as much as I can do to keep bread around here long enough for it to go moldy," Becky protested.

"Well, I brung some along just in case. I try to keep a bit on hand," the old tavern keeper admitted. "That Doctor Jedrick said somethin' when he was treatin' everybody for smallpox. There's somethin' about moldy bread, he said, that cures mortification. That's enough to kill a feller. I reckon if you keep pourin' that feverwood syrup into him, and can get that fever down, you might pull him through. You got any wild cherry bark, Becky?"

Becky nodded. Any good frontier housewife kept a stock of herbs and remedies on hand. Cincinnatus himself had taught her most of what she knew, and Mingo had shown her a few more remedies.

"Well, you brew a strong batch of that up; it'll help." Cincinnatus said. He rummaged in his satchel and brought out a small jug. "I know Mingo ain't a drinkin' man, but this ain't for imbibin'," he said as he handed the jug over. "Fact is, if this was anyone else, I wouldn't waste good likker, but you bathe him off with this. This Bear Juice'll cool him off like nothin' else will. Two parts of water, one part Bear Juice. Make a poultice outta that moldy bread and slap it on him. I'll stop in tonight too."

Daniel shook his head, smiling. "Cincinnatus, you think more of him than you'd like to admit."

Cincinnatus harrumphed. "Well, Mingo ain't much of a tavern customer, but he buys all his shot and powder from me, and he pays for it proper. He's done me a good turn more often than most of the white settlers 'round these parts. I ain't forgot, Dan'l, how you and him and Yadkin went after that Lac Duquesne and brung back my 50 rifles. Some folks can't see beyond the feathers and beads to what a decent feller he is. I don't know what notion he took to go out in the cold and watch it snow, but keep him in this bed and flat. You might could pull him through."

He leaned over Mingo and spoke, "Mingo, you mind Becky, hear? She'll have you up and dancin' by Christmas if I ain't mistaken."

Mingo gave no sign of having heard. His breathing was labored, and occasionally he gave a congested cough. Becky placed a cold compress on his perspiring forehead.

"Keep changin' the beddin' under him as he sweats. Don't let him take more chill. When the fever breaks'll be plenty of time to keep him warm," Cincinnatus instructed Becky. "If you need me sooner than this evenin', send for me, and I'll be here directly."

The wiry old man turned to Israel, "Why don't you and 'Mima walk back to the fort with me? I got some rock candy that's been callin' 'Israel! Jemima Boone!'" The tavern keeper winked at Becky and Daniel.

The children and Cincinnatus bundled up and left for the fort. Daniel pulled Becky to her feet and gave her a tender kiss and hug. "He'll do, Becky. If all that's happened to him this year ain't killed him, this won't either."

Becky sighed, "Oh, Dan, I just feel so helpless!"

"You go get in the bed and sleep while the young'uns are with Cincinnatus. I'll sit with Mingo and keep an eye on him. It'll all come out right." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Cincinnatus brought the children back with him when he returned in the early evening. Israel spent the day at the Jacobs' cabin playing with their six sons and showing off the arrow removed from Mingo's shoulder and the one Daniel had taken from the tree. Israel's fertile imagination embroidered the tale until, instead of being shot by fur thieves, Mingo had singlehandedly fought off an entire band of 20 marauding Shawnee. Jemima spent the day helping Cincinnatus in his tavern and visiting the Calloways who lived near the fort. Becky slept all day, the sleep of the exhausted. Daniel kept the fire high, sitting in Becky's rocker and dozing. He bathed the Cherokee with Bear Juice and coaxed him to sip the remedies Cincinnatus had ordered, listening to his fevered muttering. It seemed that as much went down Mingo's chin and onto his chest and blankets as down his throat, but Daniel kept trying.

A knocking on the cabin door brought Becky scurrying out of the back room and Daniel to his feet. Cincinnatus and the children entered.

"My goodness, Cincinnatus, I slept the day away!" cried Becky, "Dan, how's Mingo?"

"Now, Becky," Cincinnatus patted her hand. "If he ain't worse, then you gotta say he's prob'ly better."

"This ain't the first time I've had to doctor Mingo, Becky," Daniel said. "I'm used to pullin' his feathers outta the fire!"

Jemima took Israel by the shoulders and steered him into the kitchen alcove. "Israel and me'll start heating that stew from last night, Ma." she called.

Cincinnatus bent over the Cherokee. "Becky, whatever Dan'l done, it seems to be workin'," he nodded to Daniel. "'Pears to me, his fever's down a bit. He take any of those decoctions for you, Dan'l?"

Daniel nodded "I got as much on him as in him, but I thought he seemed easier too."

Cincinnatus probed Mingo's bandaged shoulder. "This don't look no worse neither. Looks like that bread poultice is workin'. Don't know why it works, but it sure does."

Jemima carried the first bowl of stew to her father. "Cincinnatus, you'll stay for supper, won't you?"

Before he could respond, the Cherokee opened his eyes, surprising them all. "Rebecca, do you have enough stew for everyone?"

Cincinnatus snapped his fingers and grinned. "Shoulda just offered him some of your stew, Becky!" Everyone knew of Mingo's partiality for Rebecca's Irish stew.

Becky swooped the bowl out of her husband's hands and plumped herself down in the rocking chair. "Mingo, do you think you could eat?"

Daniel laughed. "Could he eat?! He's been complainin' about my cookin' this whole trappin' season. If that hole in his shoulder don't kill him, starvation will!"

Becky chopped the stew into smaller bites. Daniel raised the Indian's head and shoulders. Mingo opened his mouth for the bite Becky proffered.

Cincinnatus started to laugh. "Why, Mingo, if you don't look like a big old baby bird!"

Mingo ignored them all and swallowed the mouthful of stew. After only a bite or two, he shook his head at more. Becky wheedled as much fever remedy into him as she could, but Mingo was soon asleep again.

"Sleep's the best thing for him, Becky," said Cincinnatus. "When the fever breaks, keep him warm. Get as much decoction and broth into him as you can, but let him sleep. I'll come and take a look at that shoulder in the morning. We'll put another poultice on it tonight and wrap it up again."

"Thank you, Cincinnatus," the redhead said as she stood and hugged the older man. "You're a gift from God!"

"Twern't nothin, Becky," he responded gruffly. "I got a soft spot for that Cher-O-Kee."

Israel came into the room and scowled. "Ain't Mingo awake yet? I wanted to ask him about Black Peter!"

Becky grabbed Israel and held him tight, "Don't you disturb him, Israel Boone! He'll feel better enough in a day or so to tell you anything you want to know. Right now, you scoot up that ladder and get to bed. Father Christmas will be watching you right up until Christmas Eve!"

Israel stepped over to the sleeping Mingo. "I hope you feel better soon, Mingo. I'm glad you ain't dying," the child said in pious tones.

Daniel laughed. "You ain't foolin' your ma, son. Quit stalling and get up to your bed." He hugged his son tight and whispered, "Mingo's got more lives than a cat. He's gonna be all right."

***********

Soon after, the children went to bed. Cincinnatus wolfed down a large bowl of Irish stew, and departed for the fort. Daniel had admitted how tired he was and gone off to bed.

Having slept most of the day, Becky was wide awake and got out Jemima's Christmas dress to make a few last minute alterations. Close on to midnight, she was rocking and humming to herself as she sewed by Mingo's bed. She suddenly became aware that Mingo was humming along quietly.

"Mingo, how do you feel?" Becky asked as she jumped up to tuck the blankets in tighter.

"Thanks to you and Daniel, and I assume Cincinnatus, I am alive and 'keeping Christmas' with you in Boonesborough after all." He stretched his hand out to her.

She took Mingo's hand in both of hers and squeezed it. She felt his forehead for fever. Much better.

"Where else would you keep Christmas?" She leaned forward and looked into his dark eyes. "Dan told me how reluctant you were to come back to us here in Boonesborough. I'm sorry you can't be with your loved ones this Christmas, but we're so very glad that you're here."

Mingo's eyes were damp. "Rebecca, I am with my loved ones."

**************

Morning dawned cold and clear, but bright with sunshine. Becky hopped out of her bed and gasped as her feet made contact with the cold cabin floor. She had spent the night in her own warm bed after Mingo swore that he felt much better and promised faithfully that he would not put a toe out of the bed.

Becky kindled the fire and pulled her shawl tighter around her slim shoulders as she waited for the fire to begin to burn brighter. She filled a kettle of water and turned to check on her patient. The bed was empty and cold.

"Mingo!" she sputtered in anger, as she yanked the cabin door open and stepped out onto the porch. The Cherokee turned guiltily as the door opened. "You promised!"

"Rebecca," he greeted her. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and was enjoying the bright dawning morning. Sunshine sparkled on the snow like diamonds.

"Don't you 'Rebecca' me!" Her blue eyes flashed. "Pie crust promises! Easily made and easily broken! You almost died! What do you think you're doing out here in the cold?"

"Rebecca," his deep brown eyes were merry and his tone placating, "You know that a Cherokee warrior must rise the day after battle . . ."

Becky's arms were akimbo on her hips, "Well, Mr. Cherokee Warrior, you just war whoop yourself into that cabin and back into your bed before I take Dan's tomahawk to you! Mingo! Your feet are bare!"

Her voice was angry but her touch was gentle as she took Mingo's face in her hands and felt his forehead. "You still feel feverish to me, and I heard you coughing in the night."

The cabin door opened again and Daniel stepped out. "Mingo, might as well make up your mind that you ain't well 'til Becky says so."

He took his friend's arm and led the way back inside. Mingo made no further protest as Becky tucked him back into the bed and smoothed the blankets. He drank the medicines Becky offered, and was asleep again within moments.

Becky stood staring down at him as he slept. She shook her head, but she was smiling. "Thank goodness, the young'uns aren't as much trouble as this one!"

************

A day later, Israel and Jemima climbed down the ladder for breakfast. Israel was so excited he could barely sit at the table long enough to eat. "Ma, tonight is Christmas Eve, ain't it?" his voice was indistinct through a mouthful of mush.

"Yes, Israel." Becky bustled around the cabin setting out boughs of evergreen on the mantle and window sills. Jemima was adding bows and candles. "As soon as you've finished eating, you can set up the Nativity."

Becky was almost as excited about Christmas as Israel and Jemima. "I need to go to the fort to get some more remedies from Cincinnatus. There might be a few other things that I need too."

Daniel spoke from the rocking chair at Mingo's bedside. "I'll walk with you. I thought I'd ask at the tavern if anyone'd seen any strangers around. I still intend to find out who shot Mingo."

Daniel was assisting Mingo with a mug of broth. They seemed to be holding a conversation that consisted of nods and winks and whispers.

"I can't leave Mingo here alone," Becky fussed. "And 'Mima and Israel have chores to do even if it's Christmas Eve!"

Mingo's dark eyes danced as he tried to look innocent. "Perhaps I could mind the children for you, Rebecca," he offered.

"And who will mind you?"

Israel jumped from the bench and ran to throw his arms around his mother's waist. "'Mima will mind me and Mingo," he said, trying to look angelic. "We'll be good, Ma; Mingo's gonna tell us about Black Peter!"

Daniel laughed, "Don't wear him out talkin', son," he said. "Mingo's gonna tell me about drinkin' and dancin' and debauchery and the twelve days of Christmas!"

"Daniel!" Rebecca was scandalized. Mingo and Daniel tried without success to stifle their chuckles.

"Pa, what's debauchery?" asked Israel.

"Never mind!" Rebecca almost shouted.

Jemima turned from her bow-tying. "Israel will do his chores, Ma, and I'll make sure Mingo stays in bed and takes his medicine."

Mingo looked almost as angelic as Israel. "I will be good, Rebecca." he promised.

Becky threw up her hands in exasperation. "You're up to something, all of you!" she accused. "When you look so innocent, I know there's mischief afoot!"

Daniel took Becky's shawl from the hook by the door and wrapped it around her. He handed her her mittens, and took his own coat and 'coonskin cap down from their hook. "Christmas surprises, Becky! Sometimes you gotta help Father Christmas!"

***************


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Israel peeked out the cabin door. As soon as Daniel and Becky had walked out of sight, he slammed the cabin door shut and whooped, "They're gone!"

Mingo threw back the blankets and prepared to rise. "Mingo!" Jemima's hands were on her hips in imitation of her red-headed mother. "You promised Ma you'd stay in bed!"

The tall Cherokee subsided back onto his pillows. "I thought you needed my assistance with your 'Christmas surprise'," he said.

Jemima hurried around with hot stones, pillow plumping and blanket tucking as she had been instructed by her mother. She brought a cup of medicine to the bedside. "We do, but you can help us and keep your promise to Ma." She sat down, and held the cup for Mingo. "We want you to teach us a song for Ma and Pa for their Christmas present. A new song that they won't know. You won't have to do anything but lay there and sing!"

Mingo's eyebrows crept up his forehead. "A song . . . Israel, fetch my bandoleer, if you will, please."

When Daniel and Becky returned from the fort several hours later, the cabin was neat, and all the chores were done. Jemima had washed and peeled the vegetables for dinner. Israel had set up the Nativity, all except for Baby Jesus, who would not arrive until Christmas Eve. Armloads of wood had been brought in, and the water buckets were filled. Mingo had drunk all the medicine offered to him by Jemima, and stayed in bed as Becky commanded.

The curtains were drawn around Mingo's bed, and sounds of giggling and fragments of song drifted out. Becky's eyes narrowed in suspicion. She snatched the curtains open. Three pairs of wide eyes looked back at her, all innocence. Mingo lay in the bed, with Israel snuggled up beside him. Jemima sat in the rocking chair with her stockinged feet on the bed. Something was hidden in the folds of her skirt, and all three were trying not to laugh.

"I know they're up to something, Dan," Becky said as she hung her shawl and mittens on their hook.

"What made you think they weren't?" Daniel countered.

He raised his eyebrows at Mingo and the children. One of Mingo's dark brown eyes closed in a wink. Jemima and Israel choked down giggles.

Becky stepped over to the bed and placed an expert hand on the Cherokee's forehead. "I do believe you're feeling better, Mingo," she pronounced.

"I thought so too, Rebecca, but I knew I must wait until you told me if I felt better or not," the Indian responded innocently, but the corners of his lips were twitching in mischief.

"Cincinnatus is going to come take another look at your shoulder this evening. We'll let him decide if you can get up or not," the redhead announced.

"Criminently, Ma, you can't make Mingo stay in bed for Christmas! It ain't right!" Israel burst out.

"If Cincinnatus thinks he needs to stay in bed, Mingo will stay in bed, Christmas or not!"

"But, Ma, we need him to . . ." the little boy began, but Jemima made shushing motions, and Israel subsided, looking confused.

"You don't need to 'shush' me, I wasn't gonna tell," Israel shouted in indignation. "Wimmin! What was God thinkin'?"

Daniel grabbed his son and held him tight. "Reckon he was wonderin' how us menfolks could manage without 'em," he informed his son.

Becky and Jemima bustled around the kitchen alcove preparing dinner. Israel's excitement grew by leaps and bounds as the afternoon wore on. The little boy was so excited he could hardly keep still. He wandered around the cabin constantly, touching the pieces of the Nativity, getting in Becky's way as she tried to cook, and teasing Jemima to exasperation by untying all her carefully tied bows.

Mingo called, "Israel, are you ready to hear about Black Peter?"

The little boy came to Mingo's bedside. Israel climbed into Daniel's lap and they settled into the rocker. "Are you gonna tell Pa about debauchery now too?"

"Naw, he'll tell me sometime when the womenfolks ain't around," Daniel assured the child as Becky turned and shot them a threatening glance.

Mingo felt fractious. His shoulder was beginning to heal and had begun itching. Cincinnatus had bound his shoulder and arm tight enough to keep him from overusing his shoulder and reopening the wound. It was very hard to scratch properly with only one hand, but in any case, scratching in front of Rebecca and Jemima would show a lack of decorum he could not allow himself to display. The bed seemed too short for his inches; it was impossible to find a comfortable position with his ribs still so sore and an aching shoulder. Rebecca wouldn't allow him to sit up for long, and he was still too weak to move around much anyway. He knew he was imposing on Rebecca, busy with Christmas preparations. Mingo was unused to so much inactivity. He hated being confined to the cabin. His long fingers began to drum against his bandaged abdomen in a nervous gesture familiar to all the Boones. Daniel watched him fidgeting and snickered. Mingo shot him an evil look and muttered a few choice words under his breath.

Israel piped up, "Mingo, were them Cherokee cuss words?"

Mingo scowled at them, and Daniel laughed, "Son, there ain't any cuss words in the Cherokee language."

Israel's eyes were round, "What do you do when you need to say a bad word if there ain't no Cherokee cuss words?"

Taking pity on both Mingo's itching and lack of curse words, Israel leaned over and scratched his back for him. Daniel pulled a long handled wooden spoon out of his shirt that he'd swiped while Becky's back was turned and handed it to the squirming, itching Cherokee.

Mingo sighed and nodded his gratitude as he put the spoon to good use, scratching the places Israel's hands had missed. "Where was I?"

"Black Peter," Daniel prodded helpfully.

Israel shouted, "Cuss words!"

"Israel, when an Indian has need of profanity, a 'cuss word', if you will, the English language provides us with plenty!" Mingo finished scratching and surreptitiously tucked the spoon under his pillow. Becky pretended not to notice the mis-use of her best wooden spoon.

"Now, for Black Peter! All over the world, Father Christmas has different names. In England and the Colonies, he is known as Father Christmas. In France, he is St. Nicolas. In Holland, across the sea in Europe, Sinter Klaas is accompanied by a black-haired elf, named Peter. Sinter Klaas brings toys and candy to good children. Black Peter leaves switches and coal for naughty children, at Sinter Klaas' command. Sometimes Black Peter even has to thrash children who are too naughty even for switches and coal." Mingo and Daniel exchanged broad smiles, as Mingo continued, "Your father was joking when he called me Black Peter."

Israel considered this information for a moment and said, "Well, anybody could of mistook you for Black Peter if he never seen any Injuns, I suppose. 'Specially if'n they thought Pa was Father Christmas!"

"Mingo's a tad tall for an elf, son," said Daniel sagely, "And I don't reckon anyone could mistake me for Father Christmas."

"'Lessen you had a beard, Pa," said Jemima smiling, as she kneaded bread at the table.

Mingo took up the tale again, "The Dutch believe that Black Peter is another name for Satan, the devil as you Christians call him. They believe that Black Peter will even take bad children away with him to a terrible place."

"What terrible place, Mingo?" asked Israel. Daniel looked interested, and in the kitchen, Becky and Jemima had paused to listen too.

Mingo chuckled, "Much as I would like to say England, the Dutch believe it is Spain. At one time, the Spanish Empire consisted of much of Europe, and Holland was overrun by the Spanish."

All of them jumped when they heard a loud knocking on the cabin door.

"Father Christmas!" shouted Israel.

"Sorry, young'un. Only old Cincinnatus," the tavern keeper assured the child as he entered the cabin. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" Cincinnatus stamped his feet to remove the snow.

"Cincinnatus, will you join us for supper after you've taken a look at Mingo?" Becky invited the old man, smiling. "Perhaps you'll stay afterward. We might talk Mingo into telling us some stories about England, if he feels up to it."

"Becky Boone, that's the finest invitation I've had in a long time," the old man thanked her.

"Mingo's gonna tell me and Pa about drinkin', dancin' and debauchery when Ma and 'Mima ain't around," added Israel bouncing up and down with excitement.

Mingo snorted, but Daniel laughed until tears ran down his cheeks.

"I hope you'll tell me about them things too, Mingo," chuckled the old tavern keeper. "I guess I know about drinkin' and dancin', but I ain't much up for debauchery!"

Rebecca Boone flounced into the conversation with her hands on her hips. "Well, I for one would like to know how Mingo knows so much about it!"

"Reckon she's got you there, old boy," said Cincinnatus, gleefully. Mingo laughed so hard that he began coughing and Daniel had to slap him on the back. Mingo winced and glared at Daniel. Israel ran to bring the Cherokee a mug of water.

"The Good Book says that 'A merry heart doeth good like a medicine'," observed Daniel. "Reckon we're all feelin' pretty chipper tonight!"

Some time later, Cincinnatus finished rebandaging Mingo's shoulder and pronounced himself satisfied with his recovery. "Your fever's almost gone, shoulder's draining right well, and you look considerable better'n you did when I saw you two days ago."

"Can he get up for Christmas Eve?" begged Israel. Jemima too looked as if the answer were of vital importance. Mingo, to Daniel's surprise, seemed to feel the matter was of significance, though he put on a good show of indifference.

Cincinnatus pretended to consider the matter. Daniel caught the old man's eye and winked.

"Well . . ." Cincinnatus scratched the whiskers on his chin. "Reckon if he don't go outside countin' snowflakes again, and he don't overdo the drinkin' and dancin'. . . and no debauchery! You just sit quiet by the fire and mind your p's and q's." Mingo nodded his agreement.

Daniel and Cincinnatus helped Mingo into one of Daniel's nightshirts. A pair of Daniel's stockings went on his bare feet. The rocking chair was moved close to the fire, and Mingo was settled in, with a blanket tucked around him by Becky.

Christmas Eve had begun!

With great ceremony, Becky served her traditional Christmas Eve supper of soup and bread. Becky Boone refused to follow the Irish custom of fasting on Christmas Eve because she felt that children should not be expected to go hungry to bed. She compromised with a simpler meal than usual.

Apparently Irish Christmases were quite different from the wealthy Christmases Mingo had known during his time in England. He sat in the rocking chair watching the proceedings with great interest.

After supper, Becky bundled Israel into so many clothes that he could scarcely move. Jemima, Daniel, and Cincinnatus also pulled on coats and scarves and mittens. Daniel hefted Tick Licker, Cincinnatus picked up his old blunderbuss and they left the cabin. Becky pointed her finger sternly at Mingo to indicate that he had better not even think of leaving the rocking chair.

"Where are they going?" Mingo wondered.

"Why, sure, and you know that it's bad luck to bring in the greens before Christmas Eve!" Becky said in mock astonishment.

"But there are evergreens on the mantel and windowsills," Mingo pointed out.

"Ah, but it's the holly and mistletoe that can't come in before Christmas Eve," Becky told him, her voice becoming more Irish by the minute.

"Did you know, Rebecca," asked Mingo, "that the holly and evergreen trees are sacred to the Cherokee?" She shook her fiery head, and he continued, "These plants stayed awake all seven nights during the Creation. Because of this, they were given special power by the Creator, and they are among the most important plants in my people's medicine and holy ceremonies."

Some time later, the little party entered the cabin, laden with mistletoe that Daniel had shot out of the trees, and holly which was hung on the cabin's door. Becky and Jemima brought out wooden hoops and busied themselves with the mistletoe and red ribbon. Much giggling ensued, and a short while later, Jemima held up a kissing ball.

"I do recognize that," Mingo informed them. "Those are very popular in England too."

Jemima blushed, "I'm hoping that Flanders Calloway will visit us for Christmas."

Israel made retching noises, but Daniel hung the kissing ball, grabbed Becky and kissed her soundly while she giggled. Not to be outdone, Cincinnatus pecked both Becky and Jemima on the cheek.

Jemima seized a sprig of mistletoe and held it over Mingo's head. He blushed scarlet when she and Becky each kissed a cheek.

Cincinnatus chortled, "Reckon I'd better check you for fever, Mingo, you're redder'n a cardinal!"

The children found Mingo's embarrassment hilarious. Daniel tactfully changed the topic. "What was that you was tellin' me and Becky the other night 'bout Christmastide, Mingo? You're the only Indian I ever knew who could quote Shakespeare even when he's out of his head!"

Mingo leaned his head back and closed his eyes and intoned in a quiet voice,

"Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes  
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,  
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;  
And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad;  
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,  
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,  
So hallow'd and gracious is the time. Hamlet, Act I, Scene I."

There was silence until Becky moved to her harpsichord and fingered the keys. She began to play the opening chords and everyone sang her favorite song, The Coventry Carol. Mingo's rich baritone voice carried the song, and Daniel's tenor and Cincinnatus' reedy voice were boosted by Israel's piping voice. Jemima chimed in with her sweet soprano.

Next Cincinnatus serenaded them all with "I Saw Three Ships," with Becky scrambling to keep up with the tempo Cincinnatus set. Both managed to finish at the same time, laughing.

Mingo surprised them with a rollicking "Deck the Halls," which he told them had become popular in England some years before. Everyone was able to 'join the chorus' with Fa-la-la-la-la-la, and Becky quickly learned the tune.

Next came "The Twelve Days of Christmas" with everyone taking turns singing a verse until Jemima and Israel began to bicker over whether it was Ten Lords a Leaping or Pipers Piping. Daniel settled the squabble by declaring that it was "Ten Lords a'Leapin', Eleven Pipers Pipin', and Twelve Drummers Drummin'," and the song ended with everyone satisfied.

Becky jumped up from the instrument, "I'm just parched with thirst from so much singing, and I reckon my fingers need a rest too!" She passed around cider and cookies, and the room was silent except for the sounds of eating and drinking.

Mingo cleared his throat significantly, and waggled his eyebrows at Jemima and Israel. Jemima excused herself.

Israel looked excited enough to burst. "Now?" he asked.

Mingo nodded, and Israel began his rehearsed speech, "Ma, Pa, and Cincinnatus, me and 'Mima have a song we're gonna sing for you for your Christmas present. Mingo's gonna help us."

Jemima returned with a wooden flute that Daniel recognized as Mingo's. She began to play a simple tune, and Israel began to sing in his clear childish voice:

"Some children see Him lily white,  
The Baby Jesus born this night;  
Some children see Him lily white  
With tresses soft and fair."

Mingo took up the tune in a gentle voice:

"Some children see Him bronzed and brown  
The Lord of Heaven to earth come down;  
Some children see Him bronzed and brown  
With dark and heavy hair."

Jemima sang the next verse shyly:

"Some children see Him almond eyed,  
This Saviour whom we kneel beside,  
Some children see Him almond eyed  
with skin of yellow hue."

Jemima's and Israel's voices blended with the next verse:

"Some children see Him dark as they  
Sweet Mary's Son to whom we pray;  
Some children see Him dark as they  
and, ah, they love Him too."

Mingo's voice returned, warm and vibrant, singing:

"The children in each different place  
Will see the Baby Jesus' face;  
Like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace  
And filled with Holy light!"

Becky's eyes were filled with pride and tears as she gazed at her children.

Jemima, Israel and Mingo finished the song together:

"Oh, lay aside each earthly thing  
And with thy heart as offering,  
Come worship now the infant King.  
'Tis love that's born tonight,  
'Tis love that's born tonight." ***

Becky and Daniel were silent. "Did you like it?" the little boy asked . "Mingo made it up all by himself this afternoon! He couldn't play the flute one-handed, so 'Mima had to learn how to do it!"

Mingo had patiently explained to Jemima how to play the six-holed Cherokee flute, hummed the tune over and over until both children were comfortable with it, and then taught them the words.

Daniel, Becky and Cincinnatus turned as one to stare at Mingo. He sat in the rocking chair shrugging, "I had no gift . . . "

Israel rushed to Mingo and climbed into his lap with care. He placed his arms around the Indian's neck and looked deep into his dark eyes. Mingo returned the look, measure for measure.

"Don't you know we don't need no presents when you're around?" Israel demanded.

Mingo's voice was thick with emotion, "Thank you, Israel," he said. "I am honored to be a guest in your home."

Israel looked exasperated. "Criminently, Mingo, you ain't a guest. You're fam'bly."

Mingo looked around. Becky and Jemima were smiling and nodding their agreement.

"Yes, indeed," said Daniel, smiling his lop-sided smile. "You're fam'bly."

"Don't know who else but family would put up with your Cherokee fits and starts," grumbled Cincinnatus, but he was smiling too.

Daniel brought forth his dulcimer, "Sweet Talker", and began to strum the strings. He sang "The Cherry Tree Carol", which began "When Joseph was an old man, an old man was he . . ." After a moment's pause, Mingo and Cincinnatus took up the song, "He married sweet Mary, the Queen of Galilee . . ." and the three men finished the song to applause from Becky and Jemima.

Becky drew out her well worn Bible, and Daniel took it up with reverence. This was the traditional close to Christmas Eve for the Boone family.

He began to read from the Gospel of St. Luke "And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed . . . And Joseph also went up from Galilee . . . to be taxed with Mary, his espoused wife, being great with child . . ."

Daniel finished his reading and there was silence again while everyone pondered the age-old Christmas story.

Cincinnatus stood and began bundling up in his outer clothing. "Reckon I'll head back to the fort. 'Night, Becky, Dan'l, Mingo, young'uns. Thanks for a mighty nice evenin'. Israel, 'Mima, better get to bed so Father Christmas can come. Put this here Injun back to bed too."

"But Cincinnatus," protested Mingo jokingly, "I haven't yet told you about debauchery."

"There's still twelve days of Christmas, Mingo. It'll prob'ly take all twelve for you to tell us all you know," chortled the old man.

Becky fussed while Daniel guided Mingo's faltering steps back to bed. The Indian was pale and exhausted, but he was smiling and his eyes were dancing.

"Now, Cincinnatus," she said, while plumping Mingo's pillows and settling him back into bed, "you be sure and come back for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I've got a surprise for all of you! Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!"

"Wouldn't miss it for nothin'," the old man said gratefully.

Daniel stood and began putting on his coat too. "I'll just walk Cincinnatus back to the fort. Might happen to see Father Christmas out and about makin' his calls on good boys and girls." He winked at Israel and exchanged significant looks with both Mingo and Cincinnatus, who nodded.

Israel had been protesting that he was not tired enough for bed, but at his father's words he kissed his parents and went to bed without further complaint.

Jemima kissed her ma and pa too, and surprised everyone by going to the Cherokee and kissing his cheek too. "Thanks again, Mingo. Me and Israel could never have made such a fine song without you. 'Night, everyone."

Becky bustled around the cabin, making ready for breakfast in the morning, putting the kettle on for tea, and setting out bread and milk for the Blessed Family. It was the custom in Irish households that  
a slice of bread and a mug of milk would be left out when the family retired so that the Blessed Family, Mary and Joseph, would know that they would have a welcome within this humble home. Finally, she placed the figure of the Infant Jesus into the manger of the Nativity.

She settled herself in the rocking chair by the fire to wait for Daniel's return from the fort. As she rocked, she hummed the song the children and Mingo had sung for her and Daniel.

Mingo lay quietly in the spare bed, very tired, but trying to remain awake until Daniel's return. He suspected Rebecca had slipped him some sort of sleeping draught since he was having so much difficulty keeping his eyes open. As he was sinking into sleep, he became aware of a small "Pssst" sound over his head.

He opened his eyes and looked for the source of the sound. "Pssst," came again and he looked up at the ceiling over his bed. A round blue eye peered down at him from where the knot had been removed in the wood.

"He here yet?" came a whisper. Becky's head whipped around at the sound of the whisper, and Mingo pretended to snore. Between snores, he shook his head "no". The knot was replaced, Mingo's eyes flew open again, and he and Becky exchanged amused glances.

"Did you hear anything, Mingo?" she said loudly, trying to muffle her giggles.

"Rebecca, you know that all good children must go to sleep before Father Christmas can visit. It must have been the wind that you heard."

Sleep was overtaking him when he felt Rebecca's cool hand on his forehead. She placed hot stones wrapped in cloth at his feet and tucked the blankets back in. "Thank you, Rebecca," Mingo murmured sleepily. Her lips brushed his forehead, and that was the last thing he knew as he gave himself up to sleep.

***((Disclaimer: Please note: Though I'd like to think that Mingo could have easily written this lovely song, "Some Children See Him" was written by Wihla Hutson & Alfred S. Burt in 1951.))


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christmas morning came even before the sun rose. Mingo became aware of an urgent and repeated "Pssst" sound from the ceiling over his head. He looked up and saw from the fire's glow the same round blue eye peering down from the knot hole. He raised himself to look around the cabin. Yes, Father Christmas had definitely visited! There were presents stacked on the bench by the fire.

He smiled broadly and nodded, and Israel almost fell down the ladder in his rush to get down it. Jemima came skittering down behind him, all pretense at being too grown up for Father Christmas left behind in the loft. Mingo beckoned, and the children joined him in his alcove. Jemima sat in the rocker, but Israel crawled in beside Mingo.

Becky and Daniel came out from their curtained alcove. The big man was still clad in his nightshirt and yawning and stretching, but Becky was already neatly dressed. It was obvious she had been awake for quite a spell, waiting for the rest of the family to wake and stir.

"Pa!" shouted Israel, dancing with excitement. "Did you see Father Christmas last night?"

Daniel pretended to consider, "Well, son, I saw someone last night when I was comin' back from the fort."

"Was it Father Christmas?" demanded Israel. Jemima's eyes were wide too.

"I don't rightly know, son," answered Daniel. "I ain't never seen Father Christmas to recognize him, but this here feller had a pack horse loaded down with bags and bundles. He was wearin' a long robe, all trimmed with fur, and he had a long white beard. Tall, too. Kinda fat. He was carryin' a long stick. Funniest thing, he had this black-haired feller with him. Tall, skinny feller he was, with a big old bag too. In fact, if I hadn't known Mingo was asleep here in the cabin, I'd a 'thought it was him." he grinned mischievously at the Cherokee, who regarded him with a skeptical look.

"What else, Pa?" begged Israel, and Jemima nodded.

"Well, he had a mean face," Daniel continued, "so I knew it wasn't Mingo, even though he did have long hair, and he was wearing raggedy clothes. Carryin' a bundle of hickory switches too. Something was fallin' out of his bag, so I followed 'em for a spell to see what it was."

"What was it, Daniel?" asked Mingo, unable to resist Daniel's story, even though he knew he was being teased.

Daniel stood and walked over to the mantelpiece. He brought back something and opened his hands to show everyone. Two lumps of coal!

Israel and Jemima gasped, Becky giggled, and to Daniel's amusement, Mingo looked surprised too.

"What happened next, Pa?" asked Jemima breathlessly. Israel's mouth hung open.

"I'll be hanged if they didn't turn around and see me followin' 'em. Me, Daniel Boone, one of the best trackers in Kaintuck!" Daniel looked from face to face, enjoying their looks of surprise.

"Then what, Pa?" Israel was wringing his hands.

"Why, then they just vanished into thin air! Pack horse and all!" Daniel exclaimed. "But not before they dropped these . . ."

Daniel went to his jacket and thrust his hands into the pockets. He drew out oranges and apples, nuts and licorice sticks, rock candy, and lastly some red and white sticks of peppermint candy. He dropped the candy into the children's laps and handed the precious orange fruit to Becky.

"Cincinnatus told me last night that a certain Cherokee had him order those oranges special from Salem," Daniel informed her quietly. Mingo wore an innocent look.

"Musta been Father Christmas," mused Israel, around the candy sticks in his mouth. Becky and Jemima carefully set the precious candy aside to save for another day.

Jemima held up one of the oranges. "Is this an orange?" she asked. At Daniel's nod, she licked it and shuddered at the bitter taste. "It's nasty, Pa!" she said, and made as if to drop it.

Mingo laughed. "No, Jemima, you must peel it before you can eat it. I have seen and eaten these in England. They are delicious!"

Mingo instructed Jemima to peel off the skin, before eating. "Rebecca, you can save these peels and make marmalade to eat on bread," he said. "Or you can dry them and add spices and make sachets to make your clothing smell nice." Jemima finished peeling the orange, and at Mingo's instruction, pulled the orange into what the Cherokee called "sections," and handed them around. Everyone except Mingo looked surprised as they bit into the fruit and found it to be both sour and sweet, and very juicy.

"Young women, called 'Orange Girls', sell these at theaters in London," Mingo mused. "They are rare and very dear in price."

Becky be-stirred herself, and said briskly. "Well, now, let's eat our breakfast and then we'll see what kind of presents Father Christmas left!"

Jemima and Israel rushed up to the loft to dress themselves, and Daniel returned dressed from the sleeping alcove to assist Mingo to rise. He settled the Cherokee by the fire; Jemima flew down the ladder with a wooden comb in hand, and insisted on combing and re-braiding Mingo's long black hair. With much enthusiasm from Jemima and very few winces from Mingo, she soon had him looking his usual immaculate self. Only a few tears of pain sparkled in his eyes.

Israel wandered around with his candy cane in his mouth poking at the presents. He saw that the bread and milk had been eaten by the Blessed Family. This discovery made him rush to the Nativity where he turned and shouted "'Mima! Ma! Pa! Mingo! He's here! Baby Jesus has been born!"

Breakfast was cornmeal mush and toasted bread with jam. The children were too full of fruit and candy to eat much, but Becky was pleased to see that Mingo's appetite was almost back to normal.

The table was cleared, the dishes washed and dried, and finally Daniel began to hand around presents.

For Israel, there was the bow and arrows Mingo had constructed. The little boy was rapturous and flew to hug Mingo's neck. Mingo winced with pain, but returned the hug with enthusiasm. There was a Jew's Harp, lead soldiers, a shirt from his ma, and last of all, a cake of homemade maple sugar candy.

For Jemima, there was the book of sonnets, hair ribbons and a dress made by her ma, a cake of maple sugar candy, and finally the locket and chain from Mingo. She was speechless with delight, and rushed to hug the Cherokee, a little more gently than Israel, but with no less gratitude.

Becky found, to her astonishment, a length of silky blue material from her husband. "Matches your eyes," her husband said, and winked. Jemima and Israel had added their gifts of lace and thread. Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed an "O" of surprise as she opened the delicate pin with a blue stone from Mingo. It was a tiny golden bow with a drop of lapis lazuli dangling. It matched the material too. She pinned it on her dress right away.

"Oh, Mingo!" was all she could say, her face flushed with pleasure. "Oh, Mingo! You shouldn't have!"

Mingo smiled shyly. "Rebecca, I can think of no one who deserves such a gift more!"

Becky seized Mingo's hand and squeezed it, then kissed his blushing cheek.

"Thought you said you had no gifts," Daniel muttered out the corner of his mouth, but he was grinning.

"Those are from Father Christmas, Daniel," Mingo defended himself, but he looked pleased.

Daniel received a new shirt from Becky and Jemima, five marbles from Israel, and the new long hunting knife from Mingo.

"What a Christmas!" shouted Israel. "This is the best Christmas I ever had!" He was so excited he had to do a cartwheel, and would have done more, if not restrained by his father.

"Now hold on there, son," said Daniel. "Ain't there something else on that bench?"

Israel's eyes grew wide and he nodded. He brought the last present and handed it to Mingo, who seemed surprised beyond words. The package was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.  
Mingo sat dumbly with the present in his lap. He seemed too stunned to even open it, his expression one of astonishment.

"Ain't you gonna open it?" demanded Israel. His fingers reached out and touched the package.

Mingo was so quiet, Becky began to worry. Her eyes met Daniel's.

Daniel reached over and laid his hand on Mingo's shoulder. "It'll be next Christmas soon if you don't open that present, Mingo. I don't know how much longer I can hold Israel off ."

Mingo drew a deep breath and began to untie the string with shaking fingers. It was difficult with only one hand. Israel could stand it no longer, and untied the string for him. The Indian sat staring at the item revealed in the paper wrappings. "'Twelfth Night', by William Shakespeare," he breathed.

"Criminently, Mingo," Israel laughed. "Ain't you never had a Christmas present before?"

Mingo shook his head, "Not for many years, Israel. Since before I left England. This is my favorite work of Shakespeare's. I had a copy in England, but had to leave it behind. I have never had another." He fingered the book, and looked up. His eyes were damp, but his smile was broad, "Daniel, Rebecca, Jemima, Israel, thank you from my heart. I have never had such a fine present. As Israel said, this is the best Christmas I ever had!"

********************* 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The only sound to be heard in the cabin was the ticking of the clock on the mantel. The mood inside matched the January day outside: cold, gray and grim. The pristine, glistening snow of Christmas Day had given way to grimy snowdrifts, plowed through many times on countless trips to the well, the woodpile, and the privy.

Becky sat at the table with a bowl of vegetables to be peeled for the evening meal. Her hands were idle, her red eyebrows furrowed in a frown. Daniel sat across from her, polishing and re-polishing Tick Licker, both to keep his hands busy and because he didn't have any words of comfort for anyone.

Mingo was sitting in the rocking chair, eyes closed, ashen-faced; he seemed oblivious to everything.

Cincinnatus stood with his backside to the fire, warming himself, wringing his hands in agitation. He spoke to Mingo, who gave no sign of hearing anything the old tavern keeper was saying.

"I've heard tell of it happenin', just never had to deal with it. Don't know of anything to do about it."  
He concluded abruptly, "Becky, Dan'l, reckon I'll head back to the tavern. Mingo, I'll take a look-see at the books I have; might be somethin' we ain't thought of."

Cincinnatus headed for the door, anxious to escape, almost afraid the Boones might urge him to remain.

Daniel rose to his feet, shook Cincinnatus' hand. "We'll look after him."

He inclined his head toward Mingo, whose eyes slowly opened. In them, Daniel saw shock, numbness, but worst of all, fear.

The old man scrambled out the door, slamming it in his haste.

Becky sighed deeply. She brought the teapot to the table, and poured out the tea. She sugared one cup well, and held it out. "Mingo?"

"Thank you, Rebecca." Mingo shifted and gave her a faint smile as he accepted the cup clumsily with his left hand. He sat for a few moments, with the untouched cup of tea on his lap. Suddenly he stood, placed the cup and saucer on the table, and moved to the door of the cabin. He closed the door noiselessly behind him.

Becky started after him, but Daniel caught the skirt of her dress and held her back. "Becky. Leave him be."

"Daniel Boone! He almost died! He needs a coat!" the redhead protested.

"He needs to be left alone, Becky. You can't cosset away what's ailin' him this time." The big man enfolded his wife in his arms, as if he were the one who needed comforting.

**************

The tall Cherokee stood on the porch, unaware of the bitter cold, heedless of evening drawing in. He started to raise his arm to lean against the post, his habitual position, but was reminded by the sharp stab of fire that his right arm no longer moved that way.

He was reminded a hundred times every day.

He could no longer fire a gun or crack his bullwhip, use his knife, paddle a canoe. He was no longer a warrior, but an object of pity to his friends, the Boones.

The arrow wound he received from the two fur thieves had seemed to be healing well, until it became obvious that the shoulder no longer worked. He could not use his right hand, couldn't raise his arm above his waist. The arm itself began to wither from lack of use. Although the external wounds were nearly healed, his shoulder pained him constantly.

And the pain was getting worse, not lessening.

Although he would have bitten his tongue off rather than complain, the Boones were aware of his growing discomfort. Becky often arose in the morning to find Mingo dozing in the rocking chair by the banked fire. She knew without him telling her that it was agony to try to lie flat in the bed which had been so comfortable. At mealtimes, she placed his plate before him with everything neatly cut into bite-sized pieces.

Just as she did for Israel.

It had been so ever since the day Mingo attempted to use his right hand and watched, embarrassed, as his plate skittered off the table into his lap and onto the floor.

Until Becky threatened to hold his nose and pour broth down his throat, Mingo refused to eat. At meals, he did little more than push the cut up food around the plate, and he continued to lose weight from his already thin frame, until his buckskin jerkin hung loose on him. Daniel notched extra holes in Mingo's belt to hold up his blue linsey-woolsey trousers. His coppery skin faded and his dark eyes seemed sunken from pain and the loss of flesh. The long silky raven-black hair which Becky and Jemima so admired even seemed duller somehow. The copy of "Twelfth Night," received with so much joy only weeks before had not even been opened or read.

Israel sighed and put away the bow and arrows Mingo had given him, as if acknowledging that the Cherokee would never be able to instruct him in their use.

Daniel offered to show Israel how to mount an arrow and shoot it, but the boy shrugged and replied, "It ain't gonna be the same without Mingo showin' me, Pa." Daniel caught the look of hurt on his friend's face, so quickly gone that Daniel might have imagined it. Mingo became more reserved than ever.

In spite of Becky's protests, Mingo insisted on carrying in firewood, and making trips to the well for water, just as always, as if to prove to himself and the Boones that he still had value as a person, if not as a warrior. When it became obvious that the trips to the well and woodpile were exhausting the still-weak Indian, Becky put her foot down and forbade Mingo to do any more fetching for her. Her heart broke at the stricken expression on his face. That was the day the Boones saw their proud friend give up hope.

The quiet Cherokee grew even quieter, something Daniel would not have thought possible. He never spoke unless spoken to, his reserve impenetrable. He was often found sitting in the rocking chair by the fire staring off to nowhere.

Cincinnatus was summoned. The old man professed himself to be flummoxed – there was no reason Cincinnatus could see that Mingo's shoulder refused to work, but the fact remained that it was as if the Indian's shoulder was frozen in place, with nothing but pain to indicate that there was any life in it.

**********

Becky's blue eyes swam with tears as she peeled the vegetables. Daniel picked up Mingo's coat and stepped out the door.

"It's mighty poor thanks for Becky if you die from pneumonia, or blow away 'cause you won't eat, after all the trouble she's taken to nurse you back to health," observed Daniel mildly, as he held the coat for Mingo to put on.

"Daniel," Mingo's voice was rusty from lack of use. "Do you propose that your wife should 'nurse' me for the rest of my life? Cut up my food for me as if I were a child? Forbid me to fetch water for her?"

"Just let her coddle you until your shoulder's better-" began Daniel, but Mingo whirled around, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Daniel," Mingo's voice was anguished, "my shoulder is not better, is not going to get better. I will be a burden on my loved ones until the day I die, which, please God, cannot come soon enough for me!"

"Mingo-" Daniel began again, but again Mingo interrupted him.

"Daniel, hear me," begged the Cherokee. "Please, hear me! I cannot hunt, or fish. I cannot provide for myself or anyone else. I cannot even protect myself or those I love. I do not wish to live the rest of my life as an object of scorn, or worse, pity."

With a shock, Daniel realized that Mingo's eyes were full of angry tears.

"I am a Cherokee warrior. I cannot stop being a warrior and sit quietly by the fire while people who pity me cut up my meat and tie my moccasins." Mingo's voice was hushed, as if he feared anyone but Daniel might hear, "Daniel, I have told no one else, but the pain is almost more than I can bear now. I do not know how I will manage should it grow worse, as it seems it must."

Mingo sagged, exhausted, and sank down on one of the benches. He leaned his head against the cabin and looked up at Daniel. "I am so tired, Daniel, yet I cannot sleep-"

In spite of his words, the Cherokee was at once asleep.

Daniel stood looking down on his friend, just beginning to realize how tenuous Mingo's hold on life was. Seeing him through clear eyes for the first time in weeks, suddenly it seemed very possible to Daniel that he might lose the closest friend he had. That the proud Cherokee was despondent enough to end his own life.

He opened the cabin door and stepped inside. Becky's red head whipped around, "Mingo?"

"He fell asleep on the porch, Becky. Seems like he ain't been sleepin' much."

Daniel stepped back outside and draped a blanket over the Indian, who continued sleeping like one dead.

"Or eating," said Becky, when Daniel returned. She smacked his hand away from the bowl she was stirring. She planned on trying to tempt Mingo's appetite with molasses cookies, something she knew he was fond of.

"Or smilin'," said Israel sourly. He was leaning on an elbow, scowling at the slate on which he was supposed to be doing sums. He much preferred Mingo's lessons to his mother's – Mingo was as apt as not to decide that Israel needed a lesson in setting snares, following animal tracks, or cracking the bullwhip, rather than letters and numbers.

"Why didn't we notice how bad he was feelin'?" asked Daniel of no one in particular. "When did he start lookin' so . . .?" he paused and searched for a word.

"Skinny?" asked Becky, beating the cookie batter with a vengeance.

"Awful!" declared Israel, firmly. "When he stopped wearin' his feathers. He don't even look like himself any more. He sure don't act like Mingo!"

"Israel's right, Pa," piped up Jemima. "He won't let me braid his hair for him any more. Reckon he doesn't want us to know he can't fix his own hair?"

"He can't tie his weapon belt either, Pa," blurted out Israel, "and it takes him forever to tie his moccasins too!"

The Boones looked at each other, feeling guilty. These things had all been apparent for days – how had they gone unnoticed? How was it possible they could not see what now seemed so obvious?

Daniel remembered that he had not noticed how thin the Cherokee had become until Mingo sheepishly asked Daniel to notch another hole in his belt to keep his trousers up. When Daniel joked about his famous appetite, Mingo gave him a faint smile, and changed the subject. That was when the Cherokee abandoned his weapon belt too, saying only that he felt perfectly safe with the Boones.

"Mingo never says nothing about anything," observed Israel.

Jemima nodded, "About himself, Israel means. How he feels, or what he thinks."

Daniel put on his coonskin cap and hefted Tick Licker. "Reckon I might go on up to the tavern and talk to Cincinnatus." he kissed Becky and Jemima and ruffled Israel's white-blond hair.

"Supper'll be ready in about an hour," Becky reminded him. "Turkey tonight."

"Save the feathers for Mingo," Daniel advised his womenfolk. "We'll have him back bein' Mingo again real soon, if I have anything to say."

"I miss his dimples, Pa," Jemima said sadly.

Daniel patted her cheek, "I know, 'Mima. I miss my Injun, too." 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Cincinnatus poured a tankard of ale and handed it over to Daniel. It was early for the evening's custom and the wiry old tavern keeper had time to talk. He shook his head as he polished the tankards he was returning to their hooks.

"'Fore I forget. Came in with a rider from Philadelphia," Cincinnatus passed a letter to Daniel who unhurriedly opened the sealed letter and began to read.

"Ain't you been feedin' that Injun of yours, Dan'l? Can't recollect anyone ever lookin' more like a scarecrow!" Cincinnatus continued to shake his head as he added, "And Mingo's always been such a dandy. Fer an Injun, I mean."

"Cincinnatus," said Daniel in a quiet voice. "None of us realized just how miserable Mingo's been. His shoulder's been painin' him somethin' fierce. Only gettin' worse, not better. You get a chance to look in them books of yours?"

"Dan'l, there ain't nothin' in there I can find," The old man looked mournful. "Can't help but think I'da done better by Mingo if I'da let him move his arm, 'stead of tyin' it so tight. What're you gonna do – leave him with Becky when you go back to your trap lines? He won't be no help the way he is."

"Why, no, Cincinnatus," Daniel looked up from reading the letter and smiled, "I reckon on takin' him with me."

**************

When Daniel returned to the Boone cabin, Mingo was still sleeping. Daniel stood looking down on his friend. Cincinnatus was right; Mingo did look like a scarecrow. His usually immaculate hair was unkempt, and the braids and feathers were missing. His moccasins looked as if they had been tied by a young child. Daniel realized he'd not seen Mingo's necklace or armlet in recent days either. His wristband was missing too, come to think on it. Seemed like everything that required help in donning had been abandoned, rather than ask for that help. Daniel pulled the other bench closer and sat down, waiting for his friend to wake.

"Pride goeth before a fall," thought Daniel, and his proud Cherokee brother had indeed fallen hard. It was time to start making things right.

Mingo stirred and opened an eye. The eye closed again. Daniel sat patiently. Mingo sighed and opened both eyes. "Still here, I see. Haven't you got anything better to do than to watch a crippled Indian sleep?"

"Yep, I got better things to do," Daniel nodded, "And so do you. We need to fatten you up enough that Becky'll let you go back to our trap lines. You look like a strong wind'll carry you away."

"What purpose will it serve for me to accompany you, Daniel? Are you that desperate for company? Israel would be more help than I shall be," Mingo grumbled, but his lips quirked in a faint smile.

Daniel extended a hand. Mingo accepted it and rose.

"Oh, I reckon we'll hang around here long enough for you to put a little meat on them skinny bones, and get you feelin' better," Daniel said airily.

They entered the cabin together. Becky turned, smiling, from the pot over the fire. "I brewed up an extra-strong batch of that willow bark tonic, Mingo. We'll see if it takes the edge off the pain you've been having."

Jemima held out a handful of feathers, and a bone comb. "Sit down while Ma finishes cookin' supper, Mingo, and I'll fix your hair."

Israel grabbed at Mingo's sleeve and began pulling his coat off. "Mingo, will you start reading 'Twelfth Night' after supper? If we start now, we'll be finished before you and Pa go back to the trap lines."

Mingo looked at all of them, and the dimpled smile they had all missed slowly appeared. "Daniel, I believe I am feeling better already."

**********

In spite of the pain in his shoulder and heart, Mingo's spirits did indeed seem to have taken a turn for the better. Becky's tonic worked well enough that he ate most of the food on his plate at supper. His head was up, his shoulders back. Since Jemima had braided his hair and affixed his feathers properly again, he looked almost like himself, the proud warrior the Boones knew him to be.

After the meal, while Rebecca and the children sat listening to Mingo read to them from "Twelfth Night," Daniel sat at the table writing a letter. The sound of the quill pen scratching warred with Shakespeare's words. Becky and the children paid no attention to Daniel, but Mingo's curiosity was aroused. His eyes kept wandering from the printed page to Daniel.

When Mingo paused in his reading for Becky to pass around cups of tea and the plate of molasses cookies, he began, "Daniel. . ."

The big frontiersman held up one hand and continued writing for another moment. He sanded the page, folded it, and attached a dollop of sealing wax. "Now, Mingo, I know that you're a mighty curious man, but curiosity killed the cat. We'll just see if I get any results to my letter before I talk about it."

Daniel winked at Mingo, sitting close to the fire, passed him a cookie, and said, "Wait and see."

**************

Life continued to improve for Mingo. He put on a few pounds and began to lose the pinched, frail look he had worn so long. Jemima made a sling and insisted he use it. She combed and braided Mingo's long hair daily and it regained its lustrous shine. Israel quietly joined Mingo in his alcove each morning and helped him don his weapon belt, moccasins, necklace and bracelets. In turn, Mingo resumed the daily lessons, to Israel's great pleasure. To their mutual delight, the two discovered that Mingo could still set a snare or decipher animal tracks, or even build snowmen!

**********  
One morning, Becky called, "Israel! The water buckets are empty!"

Israel did not appear, and Becky grumbled, "Just like his father! I never knew two people who could disappear so quickly when chores need doing!"

There was a banging as if someone were trying to kick in the cabin door. Becky hurried to open it.

To her surprise, Mingo and Israel stood there each carrying a large bucket of water. "Madame Boone," Mingo said proudly, bowing to Becky and offering her the bucket of water. "Master Boone and I have fetched your water!" His smile was broad, and his eyes had regained their mischievous twinkle.

"It's just like in the Bible verse Mingo learned me, Ma," said Israel, and Mingo hid his grin. "'O ye of little faith! Before ye call, I shall answer!'"

**********

Becky experimented with everything in the cabin, heating flour, cornmeal, even precious white sugar. It was not until she had scorched the entire sugar supply, and the cabin reeked with the scent of burnt candy that she found that a bag of salt, heated until very hot, made the perfect compress for pain relief. With a salt compress on his shoulder, the Cherokee began sleeping in his bed again. He never knew that Becky and Daniel took turns getting up at night to replace the compresses as they cooled. Thank heavens, the Boones had plenty of salt!

In the evenings, after Becky and the young'uns retired, Daniel worked on manipulating Mingo's shoulder the way it was supposed to move. Daniel had doctored enough horses and farm animals that he was fairly knowledgeable about how muscles worked. The first few times Daniel tried, Mingo was shaking with pain by the time it was over, and he bit his lip until blood ran down his chin. Daniel knew Mingo was a man of great courage, but he never respected him more than when, obviously exhausted, muscles aching, Mingo insisted that Daniel continue with his "exercises".

After that, most evenings the two men worked until Daniel practically carried Mingo to his bed. A dose of Rebecca's willow bark brew and a hot salt compress, and Mingo was asleep before his head hit the pillow. But he could move his shoulder a bit more every day.

Daniel insisted that Mingo accompany him everywhere he traveled around Boonesborough, transacting business, settling complaints among the settlers, acting as magistrate. Daniel's unquestioning acceptance added to Mingo's consequence. The tall Cherokee rarely spoke to any of the residents of Boonesborough, but the settlers grew accustomed to Mingo's quiet presence among them, finally beginning to accept him as one of themselves.

**********

Becky sent Daniel and Mingo to the tavern, both to pick up supplies and to get them out from under her feet. It was a brilliantly sunny day and she and Jemima planned to tackle the mountain of washing that had piled up since the most recent blizzard.

The two were seated before the fire in the tavern playing a game of draughts.

Cincinnatus placed tankards of ale in front of Daniel and Mingo. "Yours is compliments of Jake Jacobs, Mingo," Cincinnatus pointed at the only other tavern customer.

Jake Jacobs, already several sheets to the wind in spite of the early hour, waved drunkenly and shouted something garbled about "fightin' off twenny Shawnee bucks on your lonesome!" He staggered over to their table and attempted to slap Mingo on the back. Daniel grabbed Jake's hand and shook it heartily, saving Mingo from a slap that would have knocked him out of his chair.

Mingo looked mystified, but shrugged and nodded his thanks. Daniel and Cincinnatus exchanged amused glances. The Cherokee was probably the only one in Boonesborough who didn't know about his own fearless exploits, as told and retold by Israel Boone.

The wily old tavern keeper grinned slyly, "I put yours on your tab, Dan'l. Well, I reckon I can start stockin' rope again among the supplies here. Looks like the settlers roundabouts have give up tryin' to string up this here Injun of yours, Dan'l."

Mingo looked up from the draught board, grinning broadly at the sally. "Perhaps you might hold off selling rope until I can defend myself properly, Cincinnatus. No one has tried to lynch me today," he added blandly while he jumped his draught over at least four of Daniel's pieces, "but it is still early. Anything might happen!"

"Now hold on there!" Daniel began as he saw the damage Mingo's draught had wrought.

Mingo smiled insouciantly, "Daniel, if you will persist in allowing yourself to be distracted by every drummer who enters the door . . ."

"You keep playin' so sneaky," grumbled Daniel, "I might string you up myself. By your thumbs!" he added, but he was grinning.

The drummer who entered the tavern was carrying a bag of mail. He removed a letter from the bag and handed the rest to Cincinnatus.

"Mr. Boone," the young drummer caught Daniel's eye. "I have a letter here for you."

Daniel opened the letter and quickly perused the contents, obviously pleased. He nodded to Mingo, who was as curious as any cat Daniel had ever known. "It's the answer I been expectin', Mingo."

Daniel swallowed the last gulp of his ale, and arose, picking up Becky's bag of supplies. Mingo's tankard remained untouched on the table.

After they were gone, Cincinnatus looked around surreptitiously to see if anyone in the tavern was watching, and poured Mingo's ale back into the keg. He wiped his hands on his apron, and went whistling back to sweeping the floor.

**********

Daniel ambled toward the Boone cabin, whistling tunelessly. "Letter's from Charles Jedrick, Mingo." He glanced out the corner of his eye at the Cherokee, who stopped walking in surprise.

Mingo sighed deeply, and resumed walking. "Why keep me waiting, Daniel? What does he say?"

"Well, now," began Daniel, "he apologizes for not answerin' sooner, but he's been in Philadelphia for the past year. I addressed a letter to Harrod's Town, and it was sent on to Philadelphia. He says you need to understand that your shoulder might never get any better. But . . ."

Daniel handed the letter to the Cherokee, who read it eagerly, his eyes moving back and forth across the lines. "Dr. Jedrick asks how the same hot compresses and exercises you 'invented' are working, Daniel . . ." the Cherokee narrowed his eyes at Daniel, who smiled innocently, "That was the second letter you wrote, Daniel – not the first!"

Daniel looked like a cat who had gotten into the cream. "Well, Becky had me write when she first noticed your shoulder wasn't healin' like she thought it should." he admitted grinning. "She knew something was wrong even before Cincinnatus did. Doc Jedrick gave us a list of 'motions', he called 'em, suggested to Becky what she could try for compresses, suchlike. He was more afraid that you'd give up on yourself, and pine away." Daniel swallowed and added. "We were all a'feared for you, Mingo. You looked like you were fixin' to depart this vale of tears. For awhile there, I thought I was gonna lose the truest friend I ever had."

The Cherokee was silent. His expressive face reflected all the thoughts rushing through his head. He held out his hand to the big man. "Thank you, Daniel. Yet again, my brother, you and Rebecca and the children have literally saved my life." Daniel clasped Mingo's hand; the two men stood, gazing at each other.

Daniel shrugged off the emotional moment. "Did you read the rest of the letter? He wants us to go to Philadelphia so he can take a look at your shoulder. See if there's anything more to be done for it. He seems to think you can get back all the use of it. Be as good as new."

Mingo clutched at Daniel's sleeve. "Daniel, what about the rest of the trapping season? And the fur thieves who started this whole sorry business? If we abandon the rest of the season, how will you and your family manage to get by?"

Daniel's smile was puckish. "You worry too much, Mingo," he said airily. "It'll all come out right." The tall Cherokee stood staring after Daniel as he slung Rebecca's bag of provisions over his shoulder and stepped out briskly toward the Boones' cabin.

"Daniel!" called the Cherokee, "Wait for me!"

**********

When they arrived back at the cabin with Becky's supplies, she and Jemima were on the porch, up to their elbows in washing. At the sound of their footsteps, she scolded, "I told you to stay outside and play!" She pushed a strand of red-gold hair out of her eyes.

"It ain't Israel, Becky, it's us," Daniel chuckled.

"I've just gotten the cabin back to rights – you and Mingo can stay outside and 'play' too. Go shoot something or track something – don't you dare set foot in my cabin until suppertime!"

Mingo chuckled, "Well, Daniel, it seems our presence is unwelcome. How do you suggest we entertain ourselves until supper?"

Daniel smiled a slow smile, "Mingo, I've always believed in usin' what the good Lord gave us. Let's you and me go into the barn and 'play'."

Mingo's eyebrows crept up his forehead as he followed Daniel into the barn. It was a barn in name only as the Boones owned no livestock. The building stored farming implements, woodworking tools, and pieces of half-built furniture that waited patiently for Daniel to finish them. There was a huge pile of firewood stored too, plus wooden barrels that Mingo knew contained the winter's stores of potatoes, apples, flour, cornmeal, salt and other staples.

As Mingo watched, Daniel set up a target on one wall. He stepped over to a barrel and reached inside; he pulled out Mingo's own bullwhip, and a tomahawk.

"Daniel-" Mingo began, but Daniel interrupted.

"Mingo, you've always been mighty clever with them hands of yours. Let's see what you can do with these."

Mingo could do nothing but shrug and do as Daniel directed. Using his left hand, Mingo discovered, he could throw the tomahawk with some degree of accuracy. He could crack his bullwhip and hit his target at least half the time. Daniel was sure that with continued practice, Mingo's aim could only improve. He insisted that Mingo throw the tomahawk,and crack the whip until his left shoulder went into spasms from weakness.

When at last, the Cherokee was panting, Daniel called a short break. Mingo sank gratefully onto a barrel. Daniel brought a dipper of water. Mingo drank it thirstily.

"Don't get too comfortable," Daniel cautioned. "When you've got your wind back, we're gonna try sparrin'. I reckon there's a good hour before Becky calls us in to supper."

Mingo groaned, "Daniel, Rome wasn't built in a day."

Daniel shook his head, "We ain't buildin' Rome, Mingo. We're makin' sure you can look after yourself."

Mingo sighed and dragged himself to his feet. "Let's go."

They circled each other warily. Daniel was not trying to land any blows, only to keep Mingo moving. They went round and round the barn with Daniel calling out encouragement, and Mingo rarely near enough Daniel to connect a blow. Even without the use of his right arm, Mingo had a powerful roundhouse left, Daniel knew, and he was careful to keep out of range.

Just then, Israel ran into the barn yelling, "Pa, Ma says it's time for you and Mingo-"

Israel broke off in mid-yell, plainly astonished by the sight of his father and his best friend fighting in the little barn. Daniel turned to reassure Israel just as Mingo's fist connected with Daniel's eye in a blow he had obviously expected Daniel to duck.

Israel gave a shocked gasp. Mingo winced, and extended his hand to help Daniel up from the barn floor. Israel whirled and ran for the cabin, shouting, "Ma, Ma!"

"Good job, Mingo!" Daniel whooped proudly.

"Good job, Daniel? Have you lost your wits? Rebecca will skin me alive!" Mingo said faintly.

Daniel was whistling cheerfully as they entered the cabin. Mingo feared that Rebecca would show him the broad side of her tongue, so he hung back, looking shame-faced.

"Israel came bursting in here yelling that Mingo was killing you in the barn-" Becky broke off in mid-scold, "My goodness, Dan, what happened to your eye?"

"Mingo," Daniel grinned broadly.

Jemima had her hands to her mouth muffling giggles. Israel was doing what looked like his idea of an Indian dance of joy.

"Mingo did that?" Becky echoed, astonished. She spun around and began to advance on the cringing Cherokee.

"Now, Rebecca," Mingo began, placatingly, "It was an accident-"

To Mingo's amazement, Daniel's red-headed wife seized him in a bone-cracking hug. "Oh, Mingo!" she cried, "How wonderful!" 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Becky insisted she needed two more weeks to work on fattening Mingo up before she would permit them to go back to their trap lines and on to Philadelphia. Daniel allowed as how two more weeks of exercise would have Mingo's shoulder in even better fettle. Mingo thought that two weeks' more practice with the knife and tomahawk would either kill him or have him greatly improved in skill. Israel and Jemima were glad that Mingo would have time to finish reading "Twelfth Night".

They left early in the morning, before the sun was fully up in the sky. Daniel and Mingo were loaded down with provisions the fur thieves would have stolen, coffee, beans, cornmeal, salt, jerky, a little sugar, flour; knowing Daniel and Mingo, Becky added plenty of remedies and bandages. She gave them enough food to last until they reached Philadelphia.

The sky was gray and overcast as they took their leave at the Boone cabin. Rebecca and Jemima were tearful at their departure. Israel clung to his father as long as possible. Both men were wearing new scarves knitted by Becky and Jemima, as well as new rabbit fur mitts. They were openly cheerful about leaving, getting back to the woods and the trapping where they felt most comfortable. Becky realized that while Daniel loved his family dearly and devotedly, his heart was always ready for new horizons and the next adventure. She knew that Mingo had chafed at being confined to the cabin during his long recuperation, and that he was anxious to return to the wilderness, ready for new adventures at Daniel's side.

Israel leaped into his father's arms for one last hug. Daniel kissed Jemima and Becky. "We'll be back quick as ever we can. We'll just make a stop at our camp, see if the thieves left anything to salvage, and then head for Philadelphia to see Doc Jedrick. If there's any reason we can't be back by late spring, I'll get word to you."

Israel left his father's arms to hug Mingo, "When you come back, will you show me how to use my bow and arrows, Mingo?"

The tall Cherokee ruffled Israel's white-blond hair and bent to give him a one-armed hug. "Yes, Israel. When I come back, I will show you how to use your bow and arrows."

"Will your shoulder be better then?" Israel questioned.

Mingo laughed, "It is getting better every day. I am sure it will be vastly improved by then."

Snowflakes were falling lazily."Better get a move on," Daniel advised his friend. "We need to cover as much distance as we can before this snow turns into a blizzard."

Rebecca hugged Mingo warmly, and adjusted the scarf around his neck. "You take care of yourself, and do everything Dr. Jedrick says. All of Boonesborough wants to see you take on another twenty Shawnee singlehandedly," she added laughing at his look of confusion.

"Rebecca, I can never begin to thank you for the care you have given me," Mingo began, but Becky shook her head.

She enfolded the tall Cherokee in a warm embrace and said, "The only thanks I want is to see you healthy and happy, using that shoulder." She lifted her face, and Mingo gave her cheek a peck, blushing.

Last kisses and hugs were given; the two men shouldered their packs, Mingo's lighter than Daniel's in deference to his still painful shoulder, and strapped on snowshoes. Daniel shouldered Tick Licker; Mingo picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, though he still couldn't support its 9 lb. weight or pull the trigger. Daniel agreed that there was no need to advertise any weakness on their part to anyone who might be looking for trouble.

Smiling broadly, the two waved and headed up the path for their trap lines, and Philadelphia.

**********

They made excellent time returning to their trap lines, in spite of the falling snow. The first night they made camp in one of the many caves along the Kentucky river north of Boonesborough. Dinner was a rabbit Daniel snared, and coffee that Mingo brewed. Both men sighed happily as they settled back for the night. After so many weeks of cabin living, the cold fresh air and wide open space were like heaven.

"Daniel," the Cherokee began hesitantly, "thank you."

Daniel sat up and looked at his friend, "What for?"

"Everything. Looking after me, 'putting up with my fits and starts', as Cincinnatus put it. Allowing me to accompany you back to our trap lines . . ."

Daniel cut him short. "You'da crawled after me if I hadn't brought you. Prob'ly killed yourself tryin' to catch up, if I hadn't waited," the big man grinned. "I'da waited anyhow. What are friends for?"

"Daniel," Mingo began again.

"Get some sleep. Pleasant dreams, Mingo."

"Pleasant dreams, Daniel."

**********

When they arrived back at their trapping camp, the two were pleasantly surprised. Although the fur thieves had plundered their camp and taken most of their provisions and the furs stored there, they hadn't discovered the furs Daniel and Mingo cached in a cave nearby. Nor had they bothered to skin out the carcasses remaining in the traps. The frigid weather preserved the bodies like an ice-house. Daniel and Mingo were able to skin and cure enough pelts to make the trapping season worthwhile after all.

Daniel watched the Cherokee deftly skinning hides, albeit much more slowly than usual, and smiled a secret smile. Every day, whether on the trail, or working the trap lines, Mingo seemed more confident and stronger. Each evening, after the day's work, Daniel insisted that Mingo continue the "exercises" that Dr. Jedrick specified. At the same time, Mingo continued to practice throwing his knife, or tomahawk or cracking his whip with his left hand.

One morning, Mingo woke to a small fire and the smell of fresh coffee. Daniel poured out a cup and handed it over. The big man sat waiting, watching intently as Mingo took a reluctant sip. "Ain't you gonna make any unflatterin' comments about my coffee?"

"Daniel," the Cherokee grinned, "Your cooking skills have improved or else I have finally lost my sense of taste! I believe I would like another cup."

"Drink up," Daniel advised. "I've bundled our furs into packs; reckon it's about time we headed for Philadelphia?" Daniel stuffed the last few items into his pack. He pulled it on and rose.

"I reckon," Mingo agreed cheerfully. Daniel poured them each a last cup of coffee and poured the rest on the little fire, extinguishing it. Mingo hoisted his light pack and hefted his long rifle. Daniel did the same.

Daniel bowed, and grinned, gesturing, "Let's go!"

**********

It took almost two weeks to reach Philadelphia. There were hostile tribes of Indians, blizzards and wolves to avoid along the way. Spring was transforming the land as they entered the City of Brotherly Love. Although there was still snow on the ground in some places, crocuses were beginning to peep through the snow, and flowering trees were budding. The very air held a curious scent.

"It seems as if spring is finally coming, Daniel," the Cherokee said, inhaling deeply, "Can't you smell it in the air?"

Daniel sniffed and gave Mingo an amused look. "Mingo, you been cooped up inside too long. That ain't spring you smell, it's wild leeks. They're everywhere up here this time of year. People call 'em spring tonic. In another week or two, everything'll stink of leeks. You'll think the whole world smells oniony."

**********

Daniel and Mingo ambled along the bustling streets of Philadelphia, taking in the sights of the big city. Daniel had been in Philadelphia before; Mingo had never seen the city.

Daniel took off his cap and scratched his head, as he tried to make out just where they were. The two tall men stood almost a head taller than most of the pedestrians who passed them. Daniel's buckskin clothing was unusual enough to call attention, but most of the locals acted as if they had never seen an Indian before. Mingo was uncomfortable with the unwanted attention.

"Daniel," Mingo hissed, as a crowd of by-passers stopped to gawk, "I thought you were born in Philadelphia! Please don't tell me that we are lost!"

"Well, first of all, Mingo, I ain't never been lost. I was bewildered once for three days, but we ain't lost. Secondly, I ain't from Philadelphia – I was born in Berks County, 'bout 50 miles northwest of here."

"Let us continue to walk, Daniel, and pretend we know where we are going." the Cherokee urged nervously, looking over his shoulder. "These people act as if the sight of me is causing them physical pain!"

"Pipe down, Mingo," Daniel muttered out the corner of his mouth, "Don't make 'em choose between hanging you for bein' an Injun, or for talkin' like a Redcoat."

"Me speak Cherokee now, white brother," answered Mingo, crossing his arms across his chest, looking somber. Even with the jaunty calico sling Jemima had fashioned, Mingo managed to look menacing.

Daniel couldn't help but laugh, "That ain't a bad idea, Mingo," he answered in English. "We need to find a place to sell these furs. We don't need to carry them all over Philadelphia while we look for Doc Jedrick."

"We also need to find a rooming house that will accept a wild Indian, Daniel, or we will be sleeping in an alley tonight." Mingo grunted in Cherokee.

Daniel laughed again, and nodded. "Agreed." He hailed the group of gawking bystanders. "Any of you good people know where we can find a fur warehouse? Someone to buy furs?"

"Is your Indian a savage?" asked one small tow-headed boy, who irresistibly reminded Daniel and Mingo of Israel.

"Naw, he ain't savage. He's been eddicated." Daniel told the child.

"Here at the Indian school in Philadelphia?" the boy persisted.

"At Oxford University in England, young man." Mingo answered in English.

"Are you a real Indian, or a Redcoat?" the child questioned.

"He's a real Indian," Daniel answered. "His pa's British. He's as American as you or me. Now, son, how 'bout that fur buyer?"

"Yes, sir," the child nodded. "There's Monsieur Ferber on Market Street."

"Monsieur Ferber?" Daniel repeated. "A French furrier? Here in Philadelphia?"

"From Quebec, sir. French Canadian," the child replied. "I can lead you there, sir. I deliver packages and messages to help my mother and sisters, and I am headed toward Market Street."

The boy led them quickly to their destination, explaining as they walked that Philadelphia had been laid out on a grid work pattern. Streets running north and south had been given numbers; streets running east and west had generally been named for trees, though there were notable exceptions such as Market Street and Arch Street, among others. The child, who identified himself as Josiah House, waited patiently while Daniel transacted the sale of the pelts to Monsieur Ferber. The child's eyes grew large as Monsieur Ferber handed Daniel a sack of coins.

Daniel handed Josiah a penny, "We're mighty obliged, son, for your leadin' us here."

Mingo, who had spoken Cherokee all afternoon while Daniel conducted their business, spoke to the child in English, "Master House, do you know of any rooming house that would allow primitives?"

The young boy's eyes were thoughtful as he looked from Daniel to Mingo. "Do you mean Indians, sir?" he asked. At Daniel's nod, he continued, "Most places won't allow savages, but my mother runs a boarding house. If I take you there, I'm sure she'll rent you a room. It's just a step along, sirs, right here on Market Street."

The boy hurried them along as lamplighters began their evening's work, lighting the streets of Philadelphia. The house to which the boy led them was a rather humble building on the corners of 5th Street and Market Street. Lamps were shining from the windows as Josiah led them to the back door. "Let me go in first and ask," he advised Daniel and Mingo. "If Mother can't rent you a room, I can fix you a place in the mews." Daniel and Mingo sank down on the back steps. Both were ready for a home-cooked meal and a bed, after sleeping on the ground for the past few weeks.

Josiah was back within minutes with a pretty, smiling woman. "Gentlemen," she greeted them politely. "I am Mistress Mary House. Josiah tells me you are sorely in need of a place to lodge."

"Yes, ma'am," said Daniel. "Bein's my friend is an Indian, we ain't exactly spoiled for choice of where to stay."

Mingo stood up, and bowed deeply. "Madam," he greeted her. "How do you do?"

"Oh, my, you aren't really an Indian, are you?" she stammered. "You speak the King's English better than some Philadelphians!"

"Mother, he's an American," said Josiah. "His father is British."

Daniel grinned at Mistress House. "His ma was a Cherokee Indian, ma'am. His pa is Lord Dunsmore, the governor general of Virginia."

"My guests are simple people, gentlemen," said Mistress House. "I'm afraid they are not used to people who look like savages. If I rent you a room, would you mind using the back stairs and staying out of the public rooms? In any case, the only room I have left is at the top of the house in the servants' quarters. Would that suit? I could serve you dinner in the kitchen, or have a tray sent to your room, if you would prefer?"

Daniel smiled, "Mistress House, we'd be grateful to you if you handed us a plate out the back door and let us sleep in a stall in your carriage house."

Mistress House smiled too, "Oh, I daresay there's no need for that. Please come in."

**********

Mistress House ran a small, but well-appointed rooming house. She was a widow who supported her family alone. Her charming blue-eyed daughters were six and eleven. Josiah told them that he was eight. Josiah supplemented his mother's income by running errands up and down Market Street whenever possible.

Eleven year old Miss Frances House, called Fanny, served them a tasty meal of chicken and dumplings. Mistress House bustled in and out of the kitchen as she served customers in the dining room, directing the serving girls in the public rooms, and making sure Daniel and Mingo were well fed in the kitchen. Six year old Katherine, called Katie, watched while Fanny carefully poured cups of tea for Daniel and Mingo from her mother's prized Wedgwood teapot. She stared at Daniel and Mingo with huge eyes, as if expecting one of them to brandish a tomahawk at any moment.

Josiah had elected to eat his supper in the kitchen with Daniel and Mingo, where he plied them with questions. "Have you ever scalped anyone, sir?" he asked Mingo, while Daniel tried not to laugh.

"Mingo hardly ever takes scalps after dinner, son." Daniel said, smiling.

"I hardly ever take scalps before dinner, either, Daniel," Mingo pointed out, grinning, as he sipped his tea. Katie seemed unable to take her eyes off Mingo. She took in every detail of his clothes, hair, beads, feathers, moccasins. Mingo pretended not to notice her scrutiny.

"Josiah, thank your mother for this excellent meal. I believe Mingo and me are about ready to turn in, if you'll show us to our room." Daniel said, yawning and stretching.

"Yes, Mr. Boone, if you'll please follow me." Josiah said politely, jumping to his feet. "I could bring you some hot water, and towels, if you'd like."

Katie suddenly blurted out, "Do you wash too, Mr. Mingo?"

Josiah shouted, "Katie! Your manners!" looking horrified. Daniel began to snicker.

Mingo looked nonplussed, but he answered the child, "Yes, probably more often than some of your neighbors. I even use soap."

"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no offense," the child flushed with embarrassment.

"None taken, young lady," said Mingo. He knelt and looked into the little girl's eyes. "Have you never seen an Indian like me, from the wilds of Kentucky?"

"No, sir," the child bit her lip uncertainly. "None who speak the way you do!"

Mingo took Katie's hand and bowed over it politely. "Let us begin again. How do you do, Mistress Katherine? My name is Mingo. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Katie curtsied and said gravely, "How do you do, Mr. Mingo? You may call me Katie." A sunny smile appeared. "All of my friends do."

Mingo's dimpled smile appeared. "You may call me Mingo. All of my friends do."

**********  
Josiah took them up the servants' stairs to a small but comfortable room up under the eaves. "My mother apologizes for such humble accommodations, Mr. Boone, Mr. Mingo, but says she cannot afford to offend her more prosperous guests." He stood biting his lip, a characteristic he shared with his sister, Katie.

"We've been sleepin' on the ground under the stars for the last few weeks," said Daniel, yawning again. "This bed looks mighty fine to us."

They dumped their packs on the floor, divested themselves of their outer gear and stood looking around the small room. There was a fair-sized feather mattress on the bed, hooks on the walls for clothing, a wash stand with a small looking-glass. A basin stood on the stand, with a slop jar discreetly placed underneath. There was a soft tap on the door, and Josiah handed in a stack of fluffy towels, a jug of steaming water, and a cake of soap.

Mingo looked longingly at the hot water, and Daniel laughed. He pulled a coin out of his pocket. "Heads or tails?"

Mingo won the coin toss for who would go first, and poured water into the basin. He sighed with pleasure as he lathered and scrubbed himself.

"I don't mind bathing in streams and lakes, Daniel," he said, toweling himself dry, "but I always forget how good hot water feels."

Daniel pulled off his moccasins and outer clothing while he waited his turn at the wash basin.

Mingo emptied the basin into the slop jar, and climbed into the bed, shivering as cold sheets touched his bare skin. He was asleep almost before he sank into the ticking.

Daniel poured the rest of the hot water into the basin, "I reckon I forget how good clean feels," he soaped his face, peering into the small looking glass. "First thing tomorrow, we'll hunt up Doc Jedrick," he continued as he wielded his razor. "As I recollect, the University is near here. If he ain't there, we can try the Surgeons Hall on Arch Street." Soft snores were wafting from the bed.

Daniel looked dubiously at the short, narrow bed. Although Mingo had scrupulously left half the bed for Daniel, his long bare feet protruded from the end of the bed. There was no way two men the height and size of Daniel and Mingo could sleep comfortably in that bed!

Daniel grinned to himself as he pulled the counterpane off the bed. The snoring Indian never even twitched.

"You kin have the bed tonight, my friend," Daniel whispered as he blew out the candle and settled himself on the floor. "Tomorrow, you pull up a pallet!" 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The room was a comfortable one, and they were tired. They arose at least an hour later than planned, dressed and went in search of breakfast. They found Mistress House in the kitchen. Her serving girls were in the dining room serving breakfast to her more proper guests. Josiah, Fanny and Katie were seated around a large round table eating cornmeal mush and drinking cider.

"Good morning," Mistress House greeted them. "I trust you slept well?"

"Excellently, madam," Mingo replied, bowing to the giggling Katie and Fanny and winking, "Ladies."

Josiah piped up, "Which one of you slept in the trundle bed?"

Daniel gave Mingo a dirty look, "I was too tired to even look for a trundle – I made up a pallet on the floor!"

Mistress House looked scandalized, "Mr. Boone, never tell me you slept on the floor!"

Daniel grinned, "I've slept rougher."

Mistress House got on with the business of getting them fed. "I can offer you coffee, tea, ale, or cider," she said briskly, "If you wish it, there is cornmeal mush, stirrabout, side meat, sweet cakes, fresh scrapple or bread." She looked them up and down, as if she hadn't really seen them the night before, and smiled. "Mr. Boone, you two look as if you could eat everything on the menu."

"Reckon we could, at that, ma'am." Daniel replied politely.

They joined the children at the table. Mistress House poured them both coffee. Fanny had finished eating, and jumped up to fill plates for both men at her mother's direction.

Mistress House, clearly, was a curious woman. "Mr. Boone, are you from these parts?" she asked. "There are quite a few Boones among the Quakers in Philadelphia."

Daniel swallowed the bite of scrapple he was chewing before answering. "Yes, ma'am. My folks were from Pennsylvania; Quakers, in fact."

"Are you a Quaker, sir?" she asked. She poured them each another cup of coffee, and continued her interrogation.

"I can 'thee' and 'thou' with the best of 'em, ma'am, but my parents were read out of the meetin' because some of my family married outside the faith."

Mistress House gave Daniel a considering, side-ways glance. "Mr. Boone, are you THE Daniel Boone everyone hears so much about?"

Daniel blushed; it was Mingo's turn to smile. "I reckon one is about enough of me, ma'am," he said modestly. "I ain't much to write home about."

"But the stories one hears!" said Mistress House, laughing.

"Greatly exaggerated, I fear." said Mingo, grinning at Daniel's discomfort. This was a mistake. It turned Mistress House's attention away from Daniel to himself.

Mistress House gave Daniel an opportunity to eat while she turned her interrogation on Mingo. "Mr. Mingo," she began politely. "My Katie is quite taken with you. Did I understand Mr. Boone to say that your father is the governor general of Virginia?"

Mingo shot Daniel an evil look for revealing this information. "Yes, ma'am. My father is indeed the governor general of Virginia. And it is just 'Mingo'."

"Yet you dress as an Indian," Mistress House persisted.

"I am an Indian, madam." Mingo replied. "My mother was a princess of the Cherokee. According to the customs of my tribe, I am also Cherokee."

"But your speech . . ." Mistress House began.

Daniel saw that Mingo wouldn't get any breakfast at all if he didn't step in.

"Mingo was educated in England. At Oxford University." Daniel recognized the mulish expression forming on the Cherokee's face; Mingo clearly hated being the topic of breakfast conversation.

"Are you a Christian, sir?" she questioned. "Do you know God?"

"Madam, I am a heathen," Mingo said in a quiet voice. "It is why my father has disowned me." He smiled suddenly. "But I worship the same Creator that you do."

Daniel sighed in relief. He feared that Mingo's heathenishness would result in them being thrown out of the boarding house.

Mistress House clearly felt that Mingo's words redeemed him. She smiled back at him. "There are a great many houses of worship in Philadelphia, Mr. Mingo. Perhaps you will find one that suits you."

Daniel deftly turned the conversation back on Mistress House. "How is it, Mistress House, that you're the proprietress of this boardin' house?"

"Widows are given preferential treatment when issuing licenses for boarding houses and taverns, Mr. Boone. I have great hopes of expanding and building a tavern on the next block." She grinned suddenly, seeming much younger and less proper. "You won't believe this, Mr. Boone, but I intend to call it The Indian Queen Tavern! Philadelphia already has an Indian King Tavern."

Daniel grinned back at her, "Well, then, perhaps Mingo here is a good omen for you, seein's his ma was a princess."

"I do hope that you are right, Mr. Boone!" replied Mistress House. "May I ask what brings you to Philadelphia, gentlemen?" she asked, all curiosity again.

"We came to look up a friend who's a doctor studyin' at the School of Medicine," Daniel told her. Forestalling the next question, he continued, "Dr. Charles Jedrick is his name. He wants to take a look at Mingo."

He gestured at the sling Mingo was wearing. Mingo rewarded him with a scowl.

Mistress House considered the name for a moment. "I know of no one by that name, but there are a great many physicians in Philadelphia. Josiah could carry a message to the University for you."

Josiah jumped up, clearly ready to earn another penny. Daniel hastily scrawled a message on a piece of paper provided by Fanny, folded the message and handed it to Josiah.

"Mr. Boone, if I might have a word with you in my office? Mr. Mingo, while I speak with Mr. Boone, and while you wait for Josiah, would you care for more coffee or food?" There was no polite way to refuse her request, so Daniel excused himself and stepped into the lady's private office.

Fifteen minutes later, Josiah was back panting. "Dr. Jedrick's compliments, Mr. Boone, Mr. Mingo. If you can hurry, he can see you right away before he begins the day's schooling."

Daniel and Mingo rose promptly and followed Josiah. The University of Pennsylvania's School of Medicine was within walking distance of Mistress House's boarding house. Daniel sauntered along, whistling off-key, enjoying the fresh, early morning air. Before it progressed much further, the day would be scented with sewage, smells of garbage and unwashed humanity. They passed gardens full of budding spring flowers, and yards with pink-cheeked serving girls pegging out wash. Philadelphia was quite clearly a booming city, plainly pleased with itself.

Daniel gestured around them, and commented "I reckon it's all right to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."

Mingo shook his head, "Nor would I, Daniel."

**********

Josiah led them to the Surgeons Hall, where Dr. Jedrick was waiting. After being assured that Daniel and Mingo could easily find their way back to his mother's house, the boy went on his way, in search of errands to run.

"Daniel! Mingo! It's good to see two familiar faces," beamed Charles Jedrick, extending his hand. He was a handsome man, in his early 30's, well on his way to becoming one of the most highly-regarded doctors of his day.

"There's a classroom down this hall that isn't in use. We can use it for an examination room since there are no lectures scheduled for this morning," he added. "I was supposed to attend an anatomy lecture this morning, but since no cadaver provided itself for dissection, the lecture was postponed until one can be found."

He laughed at their shocked faces. "Well, gentlemen, it's a fact of life that most anatomical lessons are learned on the bodies of the indigent poor. I am particularly interested in muscle structure, and what makes the human body tick." He grew enthusiastic about his topic, and added, "Though dissecting a body is never a pleasant task, dissections during the colder times of year are preferable to using an embalmed body during the hotter months. The arsenic we must use for embalming is quite disgusting. Since no one has yet been able to understand the hieroglyphics the Egyptians left for embalming mummies, we can only hope that one day a better method of preserving bodies will be found."

Daniel wished he hadn't eaten quite so heartily at breakfast. From the revolted look on Mingo's face, Daniel guessed he was feeling the same way. They were familiar with Dr. Jedrick's enthusiasm, and hadn't any hopes of getting a word in edgewise.

Dr. Jedrick found the empty room, and led them inside. The windows were wide open, creating an atmosphere almost as cold as outdoors.

Dr. Jedrick seemed impervious to the chill, as he said, "Let's take a look at that shoulder of yours, Mingo. Daniel's letters were quite interesting. I confess, I have never dealt with an injury that responded as yours has done. Strip off your coat and shirt, please."

Mingo reluctantly pulled his coat and deerskin jerkin off, and stood bare-chested, shivering slightly, in front of Dr. Jedrick. The physician peered intently at the purplish, slightly puckered scars on Mingo's right shoulder and back. He caught Daniel's eye and gestured to the recent whip marks. Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dr. Jedrick's eyes widened but he did not pursue the matter. He indicated that Mingo should climb up on the wooden dissection table and lie flat upon his back.

Mingo hesitated.

Daniel could understand the Cherokee's apprehension. God alone knew when the table had been cleaned last, or whether a live human or dead one had lain upon it. Daniel knew that in spite of his Oxford education, Mingo was pure Cherokee when it came to superstitions about the dead. Mingo shot a nervous look at Daniel. Daniel nodded encouragingly, and Mingo did as Dr. Jedrick requested. Daniel swallowed a snicker; Mingo was lying as rigid as any corpse might have lain.

"May I?" Dr. Jedrick touched the scars gently. Mingo flinched, whether from pain or Dr. Jedrick's cold hands, Daniel wasn't sure. Dr. Jedrick grasped Mingo's elbow, and slowly moved his forearm and shoulder up and down, from right to left, in a range of motions. He nodded his satisfaction, murmuring to himself. "It would have been better had movement not been restricted during the recovery period. Still, there has been a great deal of improvement since you first wrote to me." He addressed himself to the Cherokee, "Mingo, hunch your shoulder, and try to rotate it as much as possible."

Dr. Jedrick laughed as Mingo winced at the touch of his icy hands. "Yes, cold hands will always be a doctor's occupational hazard. Believe me, the cadavers don't notice – we usually keep the windows open to circulate as much air as possible, winter or summer. The stench during dissections can be quite overpowering. We don't want the younger doctors fainting or, worse, vomiting on the corpses."

Dr. Jedrick had Mingo sit up on the table, and repeated the same range of motions.

He rubbed his hands together to warm them and then used both hands to push Mingo's upper arm back as far as possible. Mingo inhaled sharply, but made no complaint. Dr. Jedrick continued, "Show me, Mingo, how far you can move your arm yourself."

Next, Dr. Jedrick went through the same exercises with Mingo's left shoulder, carefully comparing the movement to what he could manage with his right shoulder.

Dr. Jedrick seemed encouraged by Mingo's progress. He handed him his jerkin and watched as Mingo pulled it back on, observing his motions. "Daniel, are you still helping Mingo do those 'manipulations' I sent you?" Daniel nodded, and Jedrick continued, "Mingo, the manipulations, or 'exercises', if you will, mimic the motions your shoulder should be able to perform naturally. Daniel's moving the muscles in the reverse direction helps strengthen the muscles even more. Gentlemen, the progress Mingo has made is astonishing. I am pleasantly surprised, since I had no idea whether these manipulations would work or not. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, after all! I see no need for surgical intervention, Mingo. Oftentimes a patient will succumb to surgery when they might have survived their ailment without it. I recommend only that you continue these manipulations. You might do the same exercises twice a day rather than increasing the amount of exercises. Daniel, you should continue to assist Mingo. Do you still suffer much pain when you move your shoulder or your arm?"

Mingo shook his head, and Dr. Jedrick laughed, "If you are telling me 'No', Mingo, I fear you are not being truthful. This is an extremely painful injury. What are you using for pain relief? The willow bark elixir? Hot salt compresses? Good, good," he nodded happily. "Continue to use the willow bark and salt compresses. As your shoulder improves, the pain should ease. I would advise you to wear a sling, but you must decide for yourself if it is a help or a hindrance in your daily activities. Mingo," Dr. Jedrick concluded, "if your progress continues as it has, you should have the full use of your right arm again in about six months, possibly less."

A wide smile split the Cherokee's face, the first Daniel had seen since Dr. Jedrick had begun his examination. Daniel gave a huge, but silent sigh of relief. Dr. Jedrick shook Daniel's hand, smiling broadly and gently patted Mingo's shoulder.

Dr. Jedrick waived off the payment Daniel offered, "No, indeed! You came all the way to Philadelphia to see me! I should be offering to pay Mingo, since I intend to use his case to write a dissertation on the musculature of the American male aborigine!" he added, laughing. "Promise me, gentlemen, that when I return to Harrod's Town next year, you will return and let me re-examine this shoulder."

Smiling, Daniel and Mingo took their leave of Dr. Jedrick and headed back towards Mistress House's boarding house.

"Reckon you're breathin' easier," Daniel was still grinning two blocks later.

Mingo nodded, returning Daniel's grin. "Daniel, I feel as if the weight of the world is no longer on my shoulder."

**********

They continued back towards the boarding house. Daniel was whistling again, slightly more tunefully. Mingo walked along quietly, lost in his own thoughts.

Daniel gave the quiet Cherokee a sidelong glance and grinned. "Mingo, what would you say if I suggested we go and do a little celebratin' of your good fortune?"

Mingo's thoughts had been far away, "Eh, Daniel? Celebrate my 'good fortune'?"

Daniel's grin grew bigger. "What say we go find us a tavern and do a little drinkin'?"

Mingo eyed him skeptically, "Daniel, as you well know, there are likely dozens if not hundreds of taverns in Philadelphia – this is a port, after all. There are more thirsty – and drunken – sailors here than in any other city in America! What are you planning?"

"I hear tell there's a tavern for every 25 men in Philadelphia – might be thousands of taverns!" Daniel continued airily. "We won't do much imbibin', we'll just do some listenin' while other men do the drinkin'."

Mingo rubbed his chin uncertainly, "By 'find us a tavern', Daniel, am I to assume that you already have one particular tavern in mind?"

Daniel nodded, smiling cheerfully, "It's a real pleasure dealin' with an eddicated man like yourself, Mingo. You just read my mind!"

"Which of the thousands of taverns shall we visit, Daniel?"

"Oh, I think we'd probably do well to visit 'The Man Full of Trouble' tavern, Mingo," said Daniel blandly.

"'The Man Full of Trouble'," Mingo repeated, shaking his head. "It sounds as if it has your name all over it!"

**********

The Man Full of Trouble was located at 2nd and Spruce Streets. A gaudy signboard showed a cantankerous man with a monkey on his shoulder and a parrot on his hand. He was shown walking with a woman who was carrying a bandbox with a cat sitting on it. Presumably this good woman was his wife. Mingo shook his head as they stood staring up at this garish manifestation. Quite near the docks, the place had a decrepit, decaying look to it.

"Tell me again why we are here, Daniel," he suggested. "Somehow this is not the place I would have expected you to choose for a 'celebration'."

"We ain't exactly celebratin', Mingo. Our hostess has asked us to run an errand for her. One she ain't quite sure how to handle herself. Said she thinks we're 'gentlemen of integrity and character'."

"Rather ingenuous of her," said Mingo, smiling in spite of his misgivings. "She certainly has you pegged correctly as a character!"

"I've been accused of worse things, some by my own wife," admitted Daniel.

"Daniel," Mingo hesitated, "this place looks as if its patrons are highwaymen, cutthroats, and smugglers!"

"Smugglers. It's odd that you should use that word, Mingo," Daniel said smoothly. "That's the very reason we're here."

Mingo looked incredulous. "We are looking for smugglers?"

"You ain't payin' attention, Mingo," admonished Daniel. "We have no reason to search for smugglers. It's Mistress House who needs some smugglers."

Mingo's mouth hung open, "Daniel, why the devil would a lady like Mistress House have any need of smugglers?"

"Well, she needs somethin' smuggled, of course," Daniel said cheerfully.

"Dear Lord in Heaven," Mingo said faintly. "Daniel, what have you gotten us into?"

"Thought you told Mistress House you were a heathen," Daniel pointed out. "I haven't promised her anything; I just told her we'd come by and have a look-see."

"A look-see," echoed Mingo.

"For one 'honest' smuggler," said Daniel laughing.

Mingo sighed heavily, "An 'honest' smuggler. Like Diogenes who traveled the world in search of an honest man. An exercise in futility, I fear."

**********

The two entered the tavern. A fire burned brightly in a filthy fireplace, and the room was crowded, in spite of the earliness of the hour.

Daniel led the way to the bar, "Two ales, please."

Mingo stood mute at his side.

"This your Indian?" the barkeeper inquired. "We don't serve no savages in here."

"He ain't savage. He's with me," Daniel said mildly. "I asked for two ales."

"Daniel, I advise caution," Mingo spoke in Cherokee, quietly into Daniel's ear.

"What'd he say?" demanded the barkeeper.

"He said he's hungry and he'd like some bread and cheese with his ale," Daniel responded politely.

"I told you we don't serve savages," the man retorted. He grabbed a filthy rag and began swiping at the counter angrily.

Daniel reached over the counter and grabbed the man's shirtfront. "And I told you he ain't savage, and we got some business to attend to." At Daniel's nod, Mingo pulled his long knife from its sheath. He held the blade to the greasy barkeeper's chin. Suddenly, Mingo looked like a savage, even to Daniel.

"Well, now, when you put it so nice," the barkeeper smiled suddenly, revealing black stumps of teeth, "I guess I can oblige you after all."

He placed two tankards of ale in front of Daniel, "If you'll have a seat at one of the tables, I'll bring your savage his bread and cheese."

Mingo sighed with relief, and sheathed his knife. Daniel jerked his head toward a table in the corner.  
Daniel had chosen the table with care; their backs were against the wall and they could see everyone who entered the seedy tavern.

"Now what shall we do, Daniel?" Mingo whispered, still speaking in Cherokee.

"We've ordered bread and cheese," Daniel said grinning. "Now we wait for the rats to come to us."

They sat at their table sipping the watery ale, and picking at the stale bread and dry cheese. "I don't think it's the ale and food these people come here for," Daniel said under his breath.

"Perhaps it's the low company," Mingo whispered back.

"You'd better stick to Cherokee," Daniel said quietly. "Some of these fellers'd stick a knife in your ribs as soon as look at you. You don't need to give any of 'em a reason."

Several of the tavern's patrons sneaked looks at Daniel and Mingo. Others were more overt, staring openly at the two tall Kentuckians. Two burly men stood at the bar deep in conversation with the barkeeper, occasionally looking over their shoulders. As the day drew on, more customers entered the tavern and remained.

The afternoon was passing; Daniel had replenished their tankards several times. When other drinkers were watching, Daniel and Mingo took hearty gulps of their ale. When no one was looking, Daniel poured the contents of their tankards onto the taproom floor. Fortunately between the dark of the tavern, and the filth of the floor, this action went unnoticed.

Another hour passed in this manner. Suddenly Mingo remarked, in English, "Daniel, I believe I am very inebriated, or the taste of this ale has improved!" He picked up his tankard and tossed back the contents, then slammed the tankard on the table.

Daniel looked at his friend in the dim tavern light. The Cherokee was staring into his empty tankard as if mystified by how the contents had vanished. Daniel shook his head, and grinned in spite of himself. Mingo drank so rarely, that Daniel had actually forgotten that his friend couldn't hold his liquor.

Mingo blinked at him owlishly, rose suddenly and walked with exaggerated care to the bar where he stood swaying slightly, waiting for the bartender's attention.

"What're you looking for, Indian?" the barkeeper looked up from the dirty tankard he was polishing with an equally dirty rag.

"Firewater, if you please," Mingo said pleasantly, enunciating very carefully. Daniel slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning, and hurried after the inebriated Indian.

"This an Injun or a Redcoat?" the man inquired suspiciously of Daniel, as he grabbed Mingo by the arm and headed him back to their table.

"The only English word he knows is 'firewater'," Daniel threw over his shoulder as he bustled Mingo back to his seat. "Learned it off an English smuggler."

"Sit there, and remember you speak only Cherokee!" Daniel hissed at the drunken Indian. "Or better yet, be quiet!" Mingo picked up his tankard of rum, saluted Daniel with it, and winked.

Daniel turned back to the barkeeper, and handed him a coin for Mingo's rum. "Sounded mighty English to me," the man remarked. "You said he learned it from a smuggler?"

"In a manner of speakin'," Daniel said, as he passed another coin across the counter to the man. This coin was quickly squirreled away in the man's clothing. "Don't you reckon that a man who keeps the British from unfairly taxin' Americans is a patriot, not a smuggler?"

The barkeeper nodded, and Daniel passed another coin across. This one vanished as quickly as the first, and Daniel continued, "The British shouldn't be collectin' taxes anywhere in the Colonies on goods and services that don't come from England; Fat George don't need any more of American citizens' hard-won money!" Another coin changed hands, and Daniel said, "I reckon that any man who can provide Americans with goods that they want and need without 'em havin' to pay taxes on 'em is a hero!"

Mingo shouted, "Hear, hear!" from his seat. Daniel flashed him an exasperated look, and he subsided back into drunken silence.

Daniel pushed another coin across, "Me and my Indian friend are lookin' for someone who might be able to provide a certain lady of our acquaintance with goods she needs – things like Madeira, wines, tea, you know . . ." The barkeeper nodded, his interest caught by Daniel's coins and words. "We were told that there might be people in this here tavern who might could point us in the right direction?"

"You might have come to the right place," the barkeeper admitted, as another coin made its way across the counter. "We have some patriots come in here occasionally who help the good people of Philadelphia with their 'spiritual' needs."

Suddenly the tavern burst into a chorus of song; a rich baritone voice was leading the singers,

"Gallants attend, and hear a friendship  
Trill forth harmonious ditty,  
Strange things I'll tell, which late befell  
In Philadelphia City . . ."

It was a rollicking drinking song, a popular one, and it was being roared out with great enthusiasm. Sung to the tune of "Yankee Doodle", it was called "The Battle of the Kegs," and referred to an incident in 1777, when a group of patriots pushed kegs filled with gunpowder into Philadelphia Harbor. The hope was that the kegs would blow up when they struck against British warships. Though unsuccessful, four British sailors had died in the attack. American patriots regarded the incident as highly amusing.

With a sinking feeling, Daniel realized he recognized both the voice and the singer waving his arm in time to the music. Mingo turned to Daniel, caught his eye, and winked again.

"Twas early day, as poets say,  
Just when the sun was rising,  
A soldier stood, on a log of wood,  
And saw a thing surprising.

"As in amaze he stood to gaze,  
The truth can't be denied, sir,  
He spied a score of kegs or more,  
Come floating down the tide, sir."

Mingo was clearly feeling no pain, Daniel noticed. He continued to conduct his choir of singers, all as drunk if not drunker than himself.  
"A sailor too, in jerkin blue  
This strange appearance viewing,  
First damned his eyes in great surprise,  
Then said, 'Some mischief's brewing.'"

"From morn 'til night, these men of might  
Display'd amazing courage;  
And when the sun was fairly down,  
Retir'd to sup their porridge."

Daniel was almost afraid to look. It was worse than he thought. Mingo was now swaying in front of the fire; two of the tavern's burliest patrons had their arms around his shoulders, and were crashing their tankards together in time to the music.

"Such feats did they perform that day,  
Against those wicked kegs, sir,  
That years to come, if they get home,  
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir!"

The barkeeper stared at Daniel, "I thought you said your Indian didn't speak any English," he said accusingly. "You ain't customs men, are you?"

Daniel smiled blandly, "He's an Indian – he ain't no smarter than any drunken magpie. He don't know what he's singin'; he's just repeatin' a song he picked up somewheres."

The barkeeper looked unconvinced, "It's a pretty long song."

Daniel shrugged, "He's pretty drunk."

**********

An hour later, Daniel had the information that Mistress House required. The rounds Daniel bought for the tavern's patrons did much to restore the atmosphere of amity in The Man Full of Trouble. As Mingo and the singers sang more songs than Daniel recognized, the Cherokee had passed from being merely tipsy to being thoroughly disguised. Daniel doubted whether Mingo could get back to Mistress House's boarding house under his own power. Since Daniel had done his own share of 'imbibin', he wasn't too sure he would be able to carry him.

Daniel inquired of the now-smiling tavern keeper, whose name was James Wetherburn, if there was a room where he and Mingo might sleep off their inebriation.

James Wetherburn shook his head, "Sorry, sir. Tonight's going to be a busy one, if you take my meaning." He winked at Daniel. He snapped his fingers suddenly and added, "If you think you could push a barrow, we've some here in the cellar."

Daniel wasn't sure he had heard correctly, "In the cellar?" he questioned.

Wetherburn grinned, "Yes, sir, we use them in the tunnel to the dock. For 'deliveries'."

Daniel scooped up his sodden friend, flung him over his shoulder, and handed Wetherburn another coin.

"Right this way, sir."

**********

It was long past lamp-lighting time as Daniel trundled through the streets with the barrow he had borrowed from The Man Full of Trouble. The Cherokee was sprawled in the barrow's tub sipping on a jug of rum he had managed to snag on their trip through the tavern's cellar, and bellowing,

"If buttercups buzzed after the bee,  
If boats were on land, churches on sea,  
If ponies rode men, and if grass ate the cows  
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,  
If the mamas sold their babies  
To the gypsies for half a crown,  
If summer were spring and the other way round  
Then all the world would be upside down!"

Daniel recognized the tune as "The World Turned Upside Down," and grinned. Thank goodness Mingo was in excellent voice, because Daniel's attempts to hush him failed miserably. Windows were thrown open by giggling serving girls who waved and blew kisses. Daniel caught several by-passers singing along to the Cherokee's infectious tune, smiling as they passed.

As they reached the boarding house, the back door opened and Mistress House and Josiah hurried out. The sight of a drunken man in a wheel-barrow was nothing new to either of them: a city with thousands of taverns also had thousands of drunkards.

"Mr. Boone," began Mistress House, in scandalized tones, "What in heaven have you been doing?"

Mingo saluted her with his jug of rum and wobbled out of the barrow. "Performing the service you requested of us, dear lady," he said in precise Oxonian tones and bowed. Daniel caught the collapsing Cherokee before he hit the paving stones. Josiah caught the jug.

"Hold the door, Josiah," Daniel directed the grinning child, "Mistress House, it's been a long day. If you don't mind, I think I'll take Mingo up to our room and pour him into bed." 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Cherokee drums pounded in his head. His mouth felt full of sand. Wintry sunshine streamed through the window; the day was obviously much advanced. The light stabbed into his eyes, and he groaned. This was a mistake, too, as it made the drums in his head pound louder.

A solicitous voice softly inquired, "Feelin' poorly, are you?" Each word sounded like a clap of thunder.

"Daniel," Mingo whispered, "please don't shout." He knew he was about to disgrace himself.

Daniel held the basin ready. He dealt with the situation calmly, holding Mingo's hair out of the way, handing him a cloth wrung out in the pitcher. "Have a sip," he directed, handing him a glass of water. The Cherokee's coppery face was green as he flopped back on the pillows weakly.

Daniel's tone was sympathetic. And quiet. "Just lay there. Mistress House is sendin' Josiah up with a surefire hangover cure." He wrung the cloth out again, Mingo placed it over his eyes.

"Is it tomorrow?" he whispered. He couldn't remember ever having felt quite so wretched.

"It's the day after tomorrow," Daniel whispered back. "You've been passed out for almost two full days."

"Two days?" echoed Mingo. He sat up too quickly; Daniel had the basin ready.

"I don't know how much more you can puke," Daniel whispered cheerfully. "You ain't had anything to eat in two days. You outdid yourself, Mingo. I know you ain't a drinkin' man; I ain't never seen you this drunk." He considered this, and reiterated, "I don't think I ever seen anyone this drunk, not even Yadkin."

There was a barely detectable tap on their door. Mingo winced at the sound. Josiah House put his head around the door, holding out a tray with his mother's "cure". "A hair of the dog that bit you, sir?" the boy said, smiling.

"I don't remember anything after we left Charles Jedrick," Mingo whispered. "How did I get so drunk?"

"You don't remember The Man Full of Trouble? Leadin' all the drunks in a sing-a-long? All the rum your friends insisted you drink?" Mingo groaned, and Daniel grinned. "Three theatre owners have called on Mistress House to ask about hirin' the singin' Injun!"

Josiah and Daniel smiled broadly at each other. "Try this, sir," suggested Josiah. "Mother swears by it for her guests who overindulge."

The child offered the tray. It held sugar cubes containing drops of clove oil, and a sprig of parsley. A dish of honey and a cup of chamomile tea completed her "cure." Mingo looked at the tray and dove for the basin. Afterwards, Daniel rinsed out the basin with water from the ewer and placed it on the bed near the qualmish Indian.

Another discreet tap on the door, and Josiah opened it to find his mother standing there, dressed in pattens and a long dark cape. She smiled at Daniel and Josiah, but frowned at the sight of Mingo, and so much bare Indian skin. Mingo pulled the blankets up to his chin.

"Oh, dear, Mr. Mingo," she said kindly, "I do hope my hangover remedy will work for you. I don't believe I have ever seen anyone quite so inebriated. If you will suck on the sugar cubes, then eat the sprig of parsley. Take a spoonful of honey every half hour. The tea will go a great way toward soothing your stomach. Mr. Boone, do you feel comfortable leaving Mr. Mingo to escort me to see our dear mutual friend, Mr. Wetherburn?"

Daniel grinned at her, "Oh, I think so, Mistress House," he said blandly. "I don't think there's much more mischief he can get up to. Maybe Josiah'd agree to sit with him until we get back. There's a tuppence in it for you, son."

Mistress House looked at her son consideringly. "Josiah, dear," she began. "Why don't you read to Mr. Mingo? One of Mr. Benjamin Franklin's improving works?"

"Yes, Mother," said Josiah smoothly.

Daniel winked at Josiah, "Maybe improvin' his mind will take it off his stomach."

Josiah laughed as the pillow Mingo threw slapped up against the door. Daniel laughed as the sound of retching followed them down the stairs.

**********

Mistress House clung to Daniel's arm as they approached The Man Full of Trouble. Daniel had returned the borrowed wheelbarrow earlier that day and made an appointment for Mistress House to make the acquaintance of the "honest smugglers." As she had told them earlier, licenses for public houses were preferentially given to widows and "destitute men of good character." There were strong laws concerning the running of taverns – in a city with as many taverns as Philadelphia, this was good common sense. The laws didn't prevent those widows and men of good character from turning to smuggling to procure the potables to run those taverns and tea houses. It was common knowledge that 95% of the tea sold in Philadelphia entered the port illegally.

Daniel had suspected that James Wetherburn was the leader of the smugglers, and it turned out to be true.

During the initial meeting with Wetherburn, Daniel had impressed upon the greasy tavern keeper that in spite of Mistress House's willingness to do business with smugglers, she was nonetheless a lady, and was to be treated as such.

Daniel led the clinging woman to the entrance on the docks that he and Mingo had used two days' earlier to leave The Man Full of Trouble. Daniel lit the lantern left by the door, and opened the door into the tunnel that led to the cellar of the tavern. Mistress House was looking all around her, taking in all the details of the well-stocked cellar. Daniel could see that she was busy making a mental shopping list. James Wetherburn came down the stairs wiping his hands on a filthy towel.

"How is your Indian, Mr. Boone?" he asked in tones of concern. "We get a lot of drunks in here, but I ain't never seen anyone get so drunk so quick. Can't hold his liquor, can he?"

Daniel grinned, "He ain't never had much of a head for it, no."

"I've had several of the 'gentlemen' ask after him," continued Wetherburn. "It bein' one of our busier nights, we had quite a roomful that day. Quite a voice your Indian has. If you'd consider parting company with him, I could offer him a good home."

Daniel shook his head, "Nope, he has a good home already, and my wife and young'uns'd have my scalp if I don't bring him back to it."

Daniel was surprised, in spite of himself, when Wetherburn brought out a tea service as elegant as Mistress House's own, and offered her tea and delicate cookies. Mistress House, too, acted as if calling on a smuggler was no different than taking tea with the vicar's wife.

James Wetherburn cleared his throat, "Mr. Boone, why don't you step into the tavern and wet your whistle while Mistress House and I conduct business? Unless you'd prefer tea?"

Daniel stepped into the tavern with alacrity, and took advantage of his host's kind offer. He noticed that Wetherburn was correct. There were no more than 5 or 6 patrons in the tavern today, compared with the dozens of their previous visit. Little more than an hour had passed when Wetherburn put his head in the door and caught Daniel's eye.

Mistress House and James Wetherburn took leave of each other as if they were the most devoted of friends. Wetherburn promised to deliver her goods within a fortnight; Mistress House smiled broadly. Daniel distinctly heard the clink of coins changing hands.

She took hold of his arm and squeezed it. "Thank you, Mr. Boone. A lady just doesn't venture into this area or type of establishment without a strong gentleman on her arm. I am most obliged to you and Mr. Mingo for your part in this endeavor, and I shall find a way to reward you, I promise."

*************

They entered the house through the back door into the kitchen. Josiah was sitting in the kitchen polishing off a piece of dried apple pie.

"Josiah!" his mother scolded. "Mr. Boone gave you two pence to sit with Mr. Mingo!"

The child nodded. "I know, Mother," he said insouciantly, "But Susan gave me six pence not to!"

"Oh, dear heavens!" Mistress House lifted her skirts and darted up the back stairs, Daniel hot on her heels.

Daniel burst into laughter as they crashed through the door into the attic room. Tiny Katie was sitting on the bed next to Mingo. A tomahawk was in her small hand. Mingo, blankets pulled up to his chin, frantically eyed the hook on the wall across the room where his blue trousers and deerskin jerkin hung. Susan, a buxom, sweet-faced serving girl Daniel had noticed in the kitchen earlier that morning, watched the Cherokee with obvious amatory interest. Mingo's mobile face clearly reflected his distress.

"Susan!" snapped Mistress House. "Go back to the kitchen! We will discuss this behavior later."

"Yes, mistress," the girl curtsied, and left the room quickly, still glancing over her shoulder at Mingo and smiling invitingly.

"Miss Katie," Daniel chuckled, "What in tarnation are you doin' with a tomahawk in your little hand?"

The little girl said indignantly, "I heard Mingo shouting and I came to rescue him! Josiah just kept eating pie!"

Daniel, still laughing, had to sit down on the chair Susan had vacated. Mingo was plainly discombobulated by the situation. Mistress House, speechless with mortification, was nearly as red as Mingo. She shielded her eyes from so much native virility. Daniel's breath was coming in gasps as he whooped with laughter, almost falling off the chair.

"Daniel," spluttered Mingo, blushing furiously, "Mistress House . . . She . . . I . . . . Katie . . . my clothes . . ." His bare arm shot out from under the blankets, gesturing at the clothes on the hook.

Katie patted what she apparently thought was Mingo's knee soothingly. Daniel thought Mingo could not blush any redder, but it seemed that he could. "There, there, Mingo," she said sweetly. "It will be all right now. Mr. Boone will protect you." she climbed down from the high bed, curtsied, took her stunned mother's hand and led her to the door.

As soon as the door closed, Mingo sat up, blankets falling away from the bare chest that so fascinated Susan. He glared at Daniel, who had tears rolling down his cheeks from laughter.

A knock on the door came less than ten minutes later. Daniel called, "Come in."

Josiah entered the room, walking strangely. "Mother's compliments, Mr. Mingo," he said, as he handed over a man's nightshirt. Mingo pulled it over his head, and Daniel began to laugh again.

"I hope your ma won't be too hard on you, Josiah," he chortled.

Josiah sighed and rubbed his backside. "She has been already. I shall be eating off the sideboard for the next few days, Mr. Boone." He handed the two pence back to Daniel.

Daniel put the money back in the child's hand and curled his fingers closed. "Keep it, son. I reckon Mingo got his money's worth!"

**********

Mistress House insisted they remain a further two days while Mingo recovered both from his hangover and the embarrassment of being accosted by Susan and rescued by Katie. Mistress House seemed to hold herself responsible for both hangover and humiliation, and did her best to rectify the situation.

She sent up trays of nourishing soups and broths and puddings, cooked by her own hands, since Mingo flatly refused to leave the room and risk another ambush by Susan. Daniel ate most of the food sent up. Josiah, on the morning after the incident, poked his head into the room and sheepishly apologized. He offered his hand. The Cherokee accepted it and shook it gravely, and announced the matter forgiven and forgotten.

Katie was a frequent visitor. She and Mingo played endless games of Hotch-Potch, a guessing game, Chuck-farthing, in which a farthing was tossed into a cup, and Buzz-saw, a game Katie particularly delighted in, with a string through two holes of a button. By twisting the string one could make the button spin in ways quite astonishing. All of this was very entertaining for a six-year old girl, but less so for the long-suffering Indian. Mistress House insisted that Josiah fulfill the terms of the contract made with Daniel by reading "Poor Richard's Almanac" to Mingo, thus earning his two pence. Daniel wasn't sure who was being punished more, Josiah or Mingo.

Daniel spent the days exploring the city of Philadelphia.

On the third morning, Daniel awoke to find Mingo fully-dressed, standing by the window gazing out into the bright morning sunshine.

"Mingo-" Daniel began, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The Cherokee scowled at Daniel, "Daniel, please tell me we may leave for home today. If I must play one more game of 'Hotch-Potch', or listen to any more 'improving works' from 'Poor Richard', I'll slide down the rain pipe and run away!"

Daniel climbed out of the high bed and began shinnying into his trousers. "I don't reckon we'll need to slide down the rain pipe. Let's get our gear ready, and we'll leave the way we came in – through the kitchen."

**********

Mistress House bustled around the kitchen, still quite unable to make eye-contact with the Cherokee. Daniel noted gleefully that Mingo also kept his head down, eyes on his plate, when the unremorseful Susan was in the kitchen. Mistress House plied them both with food and coffee until they protested they couldn't possibly eat one more morsel or drink another drop.

Daniel wasn't sure who looked more upset at their departure: little Katie, at the loss of her playmate, or Susan, who was plainly enamored of the tall blushing Cherokee.

"No, Mr. Boone," Mistress House assured them, "I could not accept a penny for your lodgings. You and Mr. Mingo did me such a service, finding and introducing me to Mr. Wetherburn! And poor Mr. Mingo, being treated so shabbily by us in return!" she turned to glare at Susan, who shone a dreamy-eyed look at the Cherokee. Mingo slid even further down in his chair.

Josiah and Daniel gave each other a laughing glance, and Daniel answered mischievously, "I reckon Mingo will always remember this trip to Philadelphia and what a wonderful time he's had here—Oof!" he bit off the comment as Mingo kicked him under the table and gave him a dirty look.

Katie and Susan looked tearful. Josiah wore a long face too. Daniel felt obligated to cheer them up. "What say I talk Mingo into showin' you what he can do with his bullwhip before we leave?"

Mingo's head came up at Daniel's words. "Daniel-" he began hesitantly, but the tall Kentuckian shook his head. "You know that I haven't been able . . ." but Daniel cut him short.

"Mingo, I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Ladies, and Josiah, if you'll join us in the courtyard." The House family and Susan trooped out the door, with Daniel and Mingo bringing up the rear.

"We need a target," Daniel mused. "Miss Katie, if you don't mind losin' a few cards, why don't you run and get your Hotch-Potch game? Miss Susan, how about you fetchin' your feather duster? Miss Fanny,  
some broom straws, if you please."

Mingo slowly uncoiled his bullwhip, looking unhappy. He cracked the whip with his left hand clumsily the first few times.

"Mr. Mingo," queried Mistress House. "You carry your right arm in a sling. Are you naturally left-handed?"

Before Mingo could respond, Daniel hurried to explain, "No, ma'am, Mingo got hurt just before Christmas. He ain't quite himself yet, but he's comin' along just fine."

The ladies came panting back with their target items. Daniel picked up one of the broom straws that Fanny had brought. He stood about 15 feet from Mingo; catching Mingo's eye, he nodded encouragingly.

"You can do this." Daniel held the straw out at arm's length.

Mingo was reluctant. He cracked the whip a few more times, experimenting. Suddenly he cracked the whip and the broom straw was snapped out of Daniel's hand. Daniel grinned hugely.  
Mingo sighed audibly. Daniel picked up another broom straw, broke it in half, and held the shorter length out.

"Come on, Mingo, you can do it!" he called.

Mingo swallowed nervously, and cracked the whip. The broom straw flew up in the air, out of Daniel's hand. The ladies and children began to applaud. Daniel's grin grew even larger.

He snapped his fingers at Katie, and the little girl ran to bring him one of her cards. Daniel held the card by a corner. Mingo felt beads of sweat pop up on his forehead. The whip cracked: the card was cut in two. Daniel was jubilant, as Katie handed him another card.

"Again, Mingo!" Daniel commanded. The big man stood as solid as a tree, smiling steadily, confident, certain. Mingo could feel his knees shaking, but when Daniel nodded, he cracked the whip obediently. The second card was snapped in two. Katie jumped up and down in excitement. Josiah cheered loudly.

Daniel pointed at the serving girl, "Miss Susan, would you like to try?"

Daniel handed her the feather duster, and she moved into his place, with a huge smile, eyes shining.

Daniel stepped over to Mingo, patted him on the shoulder, and grinning wickedly, whispered, "Give her your best shot, Mingo!"

Mingo rolled his eyes, and licked his lips nervously. Susan stood steady as a rock, her eyes on Mingo's face, her smile serene.

"Why not?" Mingo said suddenly. He stood taller, his chin up, shoulders back. Proud. He gave Susan his huge dimpled smile and cracked the whip boldly. A single feather from the duster flew up into the air. Susan fainted dead away.

"That went well," Mingo observed to Daniel, grinning. "I didn't believe I could do it!"

Daniel returned the grin, "Wasn't sure you could do it either, Mingo," he admitted with honesty. "I'd have hated to go home to Becky without my nose! I guess we're both glad to know now that you can! Better go check and see if Susan's all in one piece!"

"How remarkable!" Mistress House said as she packed a haversack of provisions for them to take on the long road home. "And you are not even left-handed! Quite astonishing!" She kept shooting assessing looks at Mingo as all of them sat in the kitchen after the bullwhip display. "With such skills and singing, you would be the sensation of Philadelphia!" Mistress House shrugged, giving a huge sigh, "Ah, what might have been!"

Daniel suddenly understood where Josiah got his entrepreneurial instincts. He cleared his throat, "I don't reckon fame or fortune is what Mingo's hungry for."

Mingo sat fidgeting with his whip, paying no attention to the conversation. Daniel could see that Mingo was plainly anxious to leave Philadelphia, so he began gathering up their packs and provisions.

Daniel tipped his coonskin cap in thanks, "Mistress House, if we ever come up to Philadelphia again, we'll be sure to look you up. Good luck on the Indian Queen!" Mingo bent to give Josiah and Katie one-armed hugs, and bowed politely to Miss Fanny, Mistress House, and Susan.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Miss Katie," Mingo gave her a wink and a merry grin.

Susan sighed audibly.

Mingo favored her with one of his dimpled smiles and extended his hand. Susan ignored the offered hand and grabbed the whole Indian. She planted a great smacking kiss on his cheek, while Mingo struggled to get away from her wandering hands.

"Susan!" shouted Mistress House. Susan ignored her mistress and continued to rain kisses on the blushing Cherokee. Tears began to roll down Daniel's cheeks, as he laughed helplessly.

"Susan . . .Miss Susan! . Ouch!. . Daniel . .SUSAN, PLEASE! . . . Stop laughing and help me! . . . DANIEL!" Mingo yelped.

Daniel deftly removed the mortified Cherokee from Susan's warm embrace while the children laughed loudly. Mingo looked as if his tail feathers were ruffled. Mistress House looked furious.

Susan looked blissful.

They shouldered their packs, hoisted their long rifles, and with one last wave for the children and Susan, Daniel and Mingo headed for Boonesborough and home. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As always, Mingo simply followed Daniel's lead. They stepped out together, falling automatically into the lope that they used to cover ground without tiring. There was no need for conversation; the two friends knew each other so well that they could anticipate each other's thoughts and needs, comfortable together as an old pair of well-worn moccasins. As they got farther from Philadelphia, their pleasure in the day and each other's company increased. They started their journey following the Great Philadelphia Wagon Road.

As Daniel promised, the woods were full of the scent of wild leeks. The world did indeed smell oniony. The snow had melted further, leaving patches of new spring growth. Snowbells popped up, along with wild iris, and flowering shrubs. Spring peepers were calling to each other seeking mates.

They found shelter the first night in a clearing along the road. Daniel was astonished by the amount of travelers using the rough road. There were people walking, using Conestoga wagons pulled by oxen, travelers in two wheeled carts, some pushing barrows, families with many children hanging out the backs of wagons, people everywhere.

The two tall Kentuckians drew scarcely a glance from the travelers as they passed, so great was the diversity of all the travelers.

Daniel commented wryly to Mingo, "If all these people are fixin' to head on down to Kentucky, it's time for me to start headin' west again."

The Great Philadelphia Wagon Road went west from Philadelphia, going through Lancaster, and York, eventually heading south through Maryland into Virginia. Daniel figured on following the trail perhaps as far south as Roanoke before breaking off towards the west and home. The crowded road drove Daniel to distraction. There were just too many people, too much noise, and all the game had been driven away by the cacophony. After just a day or so on the road, Daniel and Mingo exchanged glances and left the road for good.

Daniel sighed happily as they stepped into the lush growth of the forest away from the road. They continued making their way south and west for Kentucky.

Daniel hurried them through the wilderness, and they made excellent time on the long walk home to Boonesborough. The Cherokee was his usual quiet self, but Daniel couldn't help but notice that his heart seemed lighter – Dr. Jedrick's diagnosis had been as helpful for his mind as his body. They continued to do the "manipulations" daily; Mingo continued to improve. Though he still couldn't fire his rifle, Daniel frequently noticed that Mingo was using his right arm, apparently without even thinking about it. There was still a long way to go, but much progress had been made.

A week into their journey homeward, a strong rain came up. It was a typical spring shower, necessary for the forest, but unpleasant for humans. The rain was cold, biting, and gave no sign of letting up. Daniel and Mingo tried waiting it out in a copse of trees that gave a measure of shelter, but after an hour, it was clear that there would be no letting up. They wrapped up in their blankets, which helped a little and decided to continue their journey. The two men stepped out a little faster, hoping that some sort of shelter would present itself as evening fell, and the rain continued.

Just as they thought they would never find shelter from the rain or the night, Daniel and Mingo came upon a ruined cabin in the wilderness. The roof had caved in in places, and it looked as if no one had lived there for a great while. There were clear signs that owls roosted in the decrepit building. Daniel and Mingo traded smiles and pushed open the sagging door. The fireplace was intact, though it looked as if some stones had been carried away by scavenging settlers; they could still build a fire. Enough roof remained over the fireplace to provide some shelter from the rain. The rain was still falling into and around the cabin, but there was enough dry floor space to be comfortable for the night. Mingo went in search of firewood; Daniel sought out a well or source of water.

The Cherokee returned with an armful of wood; he had found a lean-to which held enough chopped firewood for a small fire to warm the cabin and the night. Daniel found a well, which still drew water too. With flint and steel, Daniel deftly kindled a small fire, filled the coffee pot and set it to boil in the flames. Mingo drew out the last of the jerky Rebecca had sent with them weeks before. Perhaps in the morning, one of them might snare a rabbit. Daniel stretched their sodden blankets near the fire to dry before sleep, the two removed their coats and drew near the small fire.

Daniel poured them each a cup of coffee, Mingo handed Daniel a strip of jerky, and they settled back against the overturned table while they ate. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Thinkin' of your lost love, Miss Susan?" Daniel began jokingly."What exactly happened that day? When you was so hungover?"

"Daniel," Mingo snapped off a bite of jerky with his strong white teeth and pretended to shiver. "That was too close for comfort! Thank heaven Katie heard my cries for help and rescued me!"

Daniel chuckled too, "Katie sure did handle that tomahawk well, didn't she?" he added reminiscing.

Mingo grinned, and nodded his agreement. "She did, indeed. A most enterprising young lady. Now that I am miles away from Philadelphia, I can find some amusement in the the incident. At the time, I feared for my life!"

"More like, your virtue!" Daniel observed wryly, and the two friends laughed heartily. "Wonder if young Josiah's taking his meals at the table yet or still standin' at the sideboard? I could see Israel pullin' a stunt like that!" Mingo nodded his head, still laughing.

Daniel glanced sidelong at Mingo, and teased, "That Susan was quite a pretty little armful, if'n you was in the petticoat line!" Mingo's hand reached for his tomahawk menacingly. "I was only funnin' – put away that tomahawk!"

Mingo had tears of laughter rolling down his face. "It feels good to laugh again, Daniel!"

"It does, don't it?" wept Daniel, still laughing. "Good night, Mingo."

The blankets were dry, so they wrapped themselves up and prepared to sleep. Daniel added a bit more wood to the fire. The night was full of the sounds of crickets, peepers, the owls hooting in the rafters and rain, as they surrendered to sleep.

**********  
Daniel opened his eyes when he heard a flintlock rifle cock. He sat up quickly. Three angry men were standing over him and the still-sleeping Mingo. A poke in the ribs from a rifle barrel had Mingo sitting up too. A gesture with the gun, and Daniel raised his hands in the air. Mingo raised his hands, removing his right arm from the sling too.

"Ain't you two a pretty pair?" sneered the leader of the band. "Stand up, away from those weapons; don't try anything fancy – I'd as soon shoot you as look at you!" The man wore buckskins, as did the two younger men, who looked enough like the surly leader to be his sons.

"Pa," began the youngest of the three hesitantly, "Pa, this ain't them – lookit their feet!"

Feet? Daniel and Mingo looked at each other, mystified. The older man did as the youngest suggested. At the sight of Daniel's and Mingo's feet, he lowered the gun.

"Who are you, and why are you squattin' in this ramshackle cabin?" he demanded.

Daniel lowered his hands. "My name's Daniel Boone. His is Mingo, he's a friend of mine."

"Dan'l Boone, you say?" the man's face changed suddenly; though not exactly warm and welcoming, he did look less threatening. Mingo took this opportunity to lower his hands too. He returned his right arm to the sling.

"We got a cabin 'bout half a mile from here," the older man said, abruptly. "Come on up and get yourselves some breakfast. We've mistook you for someone else."

The older man allowed them to pick up their packs and rifles. As they walked, he identified himself as Obadiah Tanner, and his sons Hiram and Jepthah. The cabin was indeed less than half a mile away, larger and more commodious than the abandoned one they had spent the night in. The rain had gone during the night, and the day was bright and beckoning. The air was full of the sound of bird song and insects buzzing.

"That there cabin was where we lived 'til a twister tore it in two," Tanner said as they walked. "This one's better located, closer to the trail. My old woman liked that little cabin more though – there were huckleberry canes close and she says she ain't never tasted sweeter water than from that well."

"That water made mighty fine coffee," said Daniel conversationally. Mingo walked along, silently.

Tanner continued, "We been having things goin' missin'. Chickens, animals from our traps, meat from our smokehouse. Tools, even wash off the line!" he shook his head angrily. "Seems like pure deviltry, some of it. We seen smoke from the old cabin last night, and decided to wait til mornin' and take you unawares." He spoke apologetically, "When I seen how all-fired tall both of you'ns was, I figgered for sure, it was you doin' the thievin'." Tanner burst out. "The dadgummedest thing – one of the thieves had the biggest feet I ever seen!"

Daniel shot Mingo a speaking glance; Mingo still looked mystified.

Daniel asked the obvious question, "Why would we hunker down in your cabin if we was the ones doin' the stealin'?"

"Well," allowed Tanner, "These two don't seem to have lick of sense. They ain't real particular about what they steal – and they ain't real careful about leaving tracks. Stands to reason whoever's got such big feet's gotta stand pretty tall. Ain't no such a thing as a giant, is there?"

"We're heading home for Kentucky and got caught in the downpour last night. If we'd known your cabin was here, we'd have headed for it and asked leave to sleep in your old cabin," Daniel said.

Tanner waved dismissively, "It don't matter none. We ain't uncivil – we just ain't real fond of thieves."

**********

Mrs. Tanner bustled around pouring coffee, filling plates with grits and eggs, and sidemeat, passing biscuits. The Tanners all ate heartily; they acted as if threatening travelers then filling them full of food was an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was.

Daniel passed the honey and watched as Mingo carefully poured a dollop on his biscuit. "Tell us more about the big feet this one fella had," said Daniel conversationally.

Mingo's attention was caught, he looked up at Daniel, but said nothing.

"Mr. Boone," said Jepthah, "it's two fellers doin the stealin'. One wears boots, but the other wears moccasins, and his feet must be this big!" he held his hands about two feet apart.

"Son, you sure you ain't exaggeratin'?" asked Daniel.

"He ain't one for exaggeratin, Mr. Boone," said Tanner, "but he ain't far off neither. Them were the biggest footprints I ever seen."

"Mingo here," began Daniel, "had a run-in with some thieves a coupla months ago. Shot him in the back and left him for dead. You remember anything at all about it, Mingo?"

Mingo sat lost in thought for a moment, then he spoke. "There was a blizzard. While I was lying on the ground, the thieves came to investigate. I had forgotten, but one of them had huge feet. And, yes, he was wearing moccasins."

Hiram spoke for the first time, "That why you're wearin' that sling? All this time later? Must'a come awful close to bein' dead." Mingo and Daniel exchanged looks. Mingo had indeed come "awful close."

"It was as close as I cared to come," Mingo admitted. "Daniel, our trap-lines are almost 400 miles from here. What are the chances that the thieves would be the same ones?"

"Mingo," answered Daniel, "It ain't likely fur thieves would stravage so far afield, but it ain't likely there's many men in the world with enormous feet neither."

"Mr. Tanner, is there any evidence that these men have remained in this area?" questioned Mingo.

"They've stolen from most of the families roundabouts these parts," replied Tanner, "but we ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em in about a month."

Mrs. Tanner went around the table pouring fresh coffee into each man's cup. "They stole all my Dominiques," she said mournfully. "Came all the way from Williamsburg. Best little hens I ever had."

Her husband patted her hand, "Now, Mother, me and the boys'll bring you some more Domineckers when we go to Williamsburg next."

A coin crossed hands between Mrs. Tanner and Daniel, and the two men were well provisioned with more coffee, cornmeal, beans, and jerky. They thanked the Tanners for the hearty meal, and left with Obadiah Tanner's apologies ringing in their ears.

**********

The morning was well advanced as they walked. "Daniel," Mingo began, "You aren't saying much, but your silence is deafening. What are you thinking about these thieves?"

"Mingo," Daniel replied, "you're the one these make-baits shot and left for dead. You're the one who's been to hell and back. I reckon these rapscallions owe us both somethin' – you more than me. I seem to remember you asking what would become of the men who started this whole sorry business."

The Cherokee was silent for a long moment. Finally he spoke, "Daniel, you spoke to me of forgiveness when you urged me to come to Boonesborough to 'keep Christmas' with you and your family. Forgiveness is a form of mercy, Daniel. It blesses both the one who gives and the one who receives. It is probably too late for us to recover the furs these two stole from our camp. Nothing can undo the events that have already transpired. You have as much voice in this matter as I. I would rather go back to Rebecca and the children and let this 'whole sorry business' drop."

Daniel considered Mingo's words. "All right, my old friend," the tall man smiled, "We'll let it ride." He stopped for a moment and added, "I can't promise though if we should fall over these two somewheres between here and Boonesborough that I'll be of the same mind."

Mingo returned the grin, "Daniel, I never look for trouble."

"No, but it certainly seems to find you often enough!" Mingo shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

The two continued on their way to Boonesborough and home.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Two hundred miles from Boonesborough and home, the accident happened.

The weather was cold and dismal, raining sporadically as they walked along a wide river. Black thunderclouds scudded overhead. The quiet Indian was even quieter than usual so Daniel took it upon himself to enliven their journey in his usual manner – telling the tallest tales he could. He was deeply engrossed in telling a tale about a man-sized catfish.

If we were in the forest, Mingo thought to himself, it would be the biggest bear or catamount ever seen. In the mountains, no doubt it would be a mountain goat or an eagle!

"I tell you, Mingo, its whiskers were this long!" Exuberantly, Daniel waved his arms at least three feet apart.

"How long, Daniel?" Mingo asked drily. "Don't forget – I was there! As a matter of fact, I believe that I was the one who actually caught the leviathan!"

"Levia-hoooo-" Daniel's arms waved wildly as he took a mis-step and vanished from Mingo's sight.

"Daniel!" Mingo grabbed for Daniel's arm, missed, and plummeted right down the mud-slick hillside behind him.

Daniel rolled and slid until he careened onto the rocks at the bottom by the river's edge. It was a hard landing, and he lay on the rocks, knocked silly and winded. Seconds later, Mingo crashed down beside him, covered in mud and breathing hard. His hand went at once to his shoulder. From the sudden biting pain, Mingo was sure he had re-injured it.

Daniel groaned and held his ankle. A quick investigation showed that Daniel's foot was already turning purplish and swelling rapidly. The moccasin needed to come off before his ankle swelled any more. Mingo drew his knife from its sheath and carefully cut the ties holding Daniel's moccasin to his leg, and withdrew the foot from the ruined footwear.

"Levia-what, Mingo?" Daniel winced as he spoke.

Mingo tried shrugging but pain convinced him that was a mistake. "Leviathan, Daniel. The great whale that swallowed Jonah. You'll need a poultice on that ankle before the swelling gets any worse. If I cut you a crutch, do you think we might continue to travel?"

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think I can walk any more today. If you could find us some shelter for the night, I might could hobble enough to get out of the open."

Mingo nodded. He gazed at the lowering sky. Heavy rolling clouds indicated a cloudburst was gathering. "I'll go back up and bring down our rifles and packs. Then I'll scout around for a cave somewhere along here. I doubt the rain will hold off much longer, and you need a poultice on that ankle."

Their luck improved after the tumble down the hillside. Mingo soon found a small cave ideal for a night's shelter. Hardly more than a hollow in the rocks, it would serve their purpose. He practically carried Daniel to the cave since the big man could barely put foot to the ground. Although Daniel tried to make light of the situation, Mingo could tell he was in pain. Thank fortune, Rebecca Boone had the foresight to include plenty of herbal remedies and bandages. After the moss poultice brought some of the swelling down, Mingo would bandage the ankle with arnica root, an excellent remedy for bruises and sprains.

Several trips back and forth, and Mingo brought their packs and rifles. He scavenged through the undergrowth until he found firewood dry enough to burn, and kindled a small fire. He brought water and started a pot of coffee brewing. He felt beads of sweat pop up on his forehead, and realized that in spite of his cheerful words to Daniel, the still painful shoulder was damaged again. He suspected too from the pain in his side that a rib or two was cracked, or worse, broken.

No good would come of mentioning these things to Daniel. He continued his work, ignoring the pain. Daniel dozed by the fire while Mingo checked the packs for food – there was a fair amount of coffee, some beans, cornmeal, a little sugar. He blessed Rebecca Boone again for the spool of cotton thread and the needle he discovered in Daniel's pack. A little bending, and the needle would be fine for a fish hook. They were running low on jerky; he might as well try to catch a few fish for supper. Daniel's far-fetched fish tale had made him hungry for catfish.

It was the right time of day for fishing and Mingo was a very good fisherman. The catfish weren't biting, but within an hour he had a dozen fine trout. He found a small branch and threaded it through the heads of the fish, then put them over the fire to cook. As soon as he sat down, he found exhaustion overwhelming him. Mingo poured himself a cup of the coffee, which revived him somewhat.

Daniel roused a little, and Mingo put a fresh poultice on the ankle. It hadn't swelled any more. Mingo decided he would leave the poultice a while longer, then replace it with the arnica paste he had made.

As the smell of the cooking fish began to pervade the little cave, Daniel sat up and took a little more interest in the goings-on. Mingo handed him a couple of the fish, and a cup of the hot coffee.

Daniel smiled back his thanks, "These fresh trout go a long way toward making me feel better," he said. "I don't reckon there's any finer eatin'." The first two fish went down quickly, and Mingo handed him two more. He winced and his hand went to his rib cage. Daniel didn't miss the gesture.

"Any broken?"

Mingo shook his head, "Merely cracked, I think. I feel as if I am an accident waiting for a place to happen."

Daniel grinned, "I've felt that way myself," he admitted. "Good thing Becky knows us well enough to send along plenty of bandages. Pass along the pack and move over here."

When Daniel finished strapping his ribs up, Mingo sighed with relief. "How's your shoulder?" Daniel continued.

"No serious damage," said Mingo. "Perhaps we should remain here for a day or so, Daniel. The river is right here, this cave is a snug little place. We could have looked farther and done much worse. I don't think you should try to walk on that sprain. You could do more injury to it."

Later that evening, as the fire burned low, the two men sat wrapped in their blankets. Mingo held Daniel's ruined moccasin. "It's a good thing that Rebecca always sends an extra pair of moccasins for you." He winced again as he bent and began to untie and pull off his own footwear.

Daniel nodded, "Anyone provisioned by Becky Boone wouldn't lack for anything," he admitted. "I might forget my head, but Becky'd find it and pack it for me." he said laughing.

The Cherokee poked his finger through a hole in the sole of his own moccasin. "Tekawitha made these for me before I went trapping with you in October, Daniel." he said, smiling reminiscently. "They have carried me many miles."

Tekawitha was the adopted daughter of Menewa, Mingo's maternal uncle. Intended for winter wear, the moccasins were made of elkskin rubbed with bear grease to waterproof them, then lined with rabbit fur to keep her cousin's feet warm. Daniel would have recognized Tekawitha McCloud's moccasins whether Mingo's feet were in them or not. She always used a distinctive bead pattern unique among the women of Mingo's village, Chota. Tekawitha 's moccasins were made with a double thickness of hide on the soles. Daniel knew that Mingo also carried a spare pair of moccasins in his pack, but he would wear the winter pair until it fell to pieces rather than break in a new pair of moccasins on the trail. As Daniel watched, he grinned to see Mingo carefully cutting a piece of hide to patch the hole in his moccasin's sole.

Daniel cleared his throat. "I keep thinking about the man who's wearin' that giant pair of moccasins the Tanners told us about. The ones that probably belonged to the man who shot you before Christmas."

Across the fire, Mingo nodded and Daniel took this as leave to continue the thread of conversation. "I've felt this prickling feeling on the back of my neck."

Daniel saw his superstitious friend nod again. Mingo's life had been saved more than once by Daniel's prickling feelings.

Mingo stretched cautiously and bit off a soft grunt of pain. Daniel caught the sound and insisted, "Let me take a look at your shoulder, Mingo."

Mingo reluctantly moved closer and slipped his blanket down. His shoulder was bruised blue and purple, oozing blood from a few small cuts.

Daniel winced in sympathy, "And you carried me here like that? With cracked ribs too? I'da crawled first."

Mingo answered drily, "Daniel, you don't have enough hair to drag you with. I did what I must."

Daniel grinned suddenly, "Where's that arnica root poultice and them bandages? I think you need 'em more than me!"

**********

By morning, both men were stiff and sore. Daniel's ankle swelled no further, but was still hot to the touch and extremely tender. Mingo was feverish and uncomfortable too.

Daniel harrumphed, "Well, between my ankle and your shoulder, we're going to hole up here for a couple of days. I think we both need a little quiet time."

Though neither would admit it, both were only too happy to lie by the fire. Mingo moved only to fetch firewood or more water. Daniel found a tree branch close to the cave that he could use for a crutch and managed to limp around. Feeling cooped up in the small cave and bored, he hobbled down to the river to catch more fish.

When Daniel returned with his catch, he saw that Mingo had stirred himself enough to cook a few corn cakes on a flat rock by the fire. He reclined against the wall of the cave with his eyes closed. Daniel began to thread the fish on sticks close to the fire.

Daniel had never known anyone who could match Mingo for quietness. The Cherokee could sit quiet, tranquil, motionless for hours, keeping his own counsel, as still and silent as the forest itself. Daniel recognized all of Mingo's types of quietude. This particular kind bothered him. He knew it meant Mingo was brooding about something. Daniel also knew better than to press him for details. When he was ready to speak, the dam would burst, and Daniel would know all that Mingo felt like sharing with him. Until that time came, nothing would make him speak. One fact was as certain as the other.

The edges of the corn cakes were beginning to burn. Daniel turned them over, taken aback. It was unlike Mingo to begin to do something, anything, without finishing the job. Cooking, fishing, hunting, even fighting, Mingo was one of the most single-minded men he had ever met. After the injury to his shoulder, Daniel was not surprised that his friend learned to do everything with his left hand nearly as well as with his right. In the earliest days of their friendship, Daniel learned that Mingo was understanding, compassionate even, about the peccadilloes of others, but unable to accept anything less than perfection in himself. Their long association had softened him up somewhat, Daniel thought grinning. Mingo had grown comfortable enough with the Boone family to accept the hugs and kisses Becky and the children doled out, though he was still reserved enough that he never entered the cabin without knocking. Mingo had reluctantly unbent enough to accept the care and help he needed after his devastating injury at Christmas. But he had stood at death's door looking through before he allowed the Boones to help.

Daniel still wondered what kind of proper English upbringing had taken all the joy out of the little Indian boy taken to England against his will, and turned the boy into a somber man constantly striving to achieve the impossible standards he set for himself.

He darted a look at Mingo, and saw him in deep sleep. The corn cakes were done, the fish nearly so. He tapped the sleeping Indian on the knee. Mingo was awake instantly, his knife in his hand.

Mingo blinked sleepily and sheathed the knife, looking sheepish. "I must have dozed off, Daniel," he said by way of apology.

"You're gettin' better with that knife," Daniel smiled. "You almost let the cakes burn!"

Mingo smiled, "Like Alfred the Great, who also burned the cakes."

"Who?"

"Every English schoolboy knows of Alfred the Great, a Saxon king who took shelter in a peasant's cottage. When asked to mind cakes cooking over the fire, he allowed them to burn while thinking his own deep thoughts."

"What deep thoughts're you thinkin', Mingo?"

"Alfred saw himself victorious over the Danes, and winning back his throne, Daniel." Mingo said. "I suppose I was thinking of victory over my enemies too."

"Those enemies wouldn't be them fur thieves, would they?" Daniel raised his eyebrows.

Mingo laughed and changed the subject adroitly. "Tell me about this 'prickling feeling' of yours. We never finished that conversation."

Daniel gave in graciously. "I've just had a feeling, prickling or niggling, call it what you will." He passed a few of the fish to the Cherokee who accepted them with a nod of thanks.

Daniel poured out two cups of coffee and passed a corn cake before continuing. "I keep thinkin' about those two fur thieves who ambushed you, Mingo. We ain't discussed it much. Is there anything at all you remember? Anything that's come to you since we met the Tanners?"

Mingo closed his eyes, deep in thought, "It was snowing hard, Daniel, while I followed our trap-lines. Most of the traps were empty. Some were sprung deliberately. I was face-down in the snow before I realized what was happening." His eyes opened. They held a hard, angry look. "They came to find their quarry. When they saw it was an Indian, their only concern was that you would track them down and retaliate. They recognized me as 'Boone's Injun,' Daniel," Mingo added bitterly.

"Tommy and Billy, you told me," Daniel said. Mingo's head came up. It was obvious he had forgotten that detail. "Ever seen 'em before? Get a good look at their faces?"

Mingo thought carefully before he spoke again. "One of them kicked me to turn me over. Billy, I think. To find out if I were dead. I tried to see their faces, but I could not. I remember the moccasins on the other pair of feet, Daniel. The feet were huge, as the Tanners said."

Daniel remembered too. When he found him, an arrow was sticking out of Mingo's back. He had been kicked hard enough to crack his ribs, and bludgeoned with the butt of one of their rifles. Then he'd been left to freeze, bleed to death, or starve. Daniel shook his head; it wasn't just the thievery, it was the plain raw deviltry of their act. The memory of how much pain and loss the two fur thieves caused wherever they went, how nearly Mingo had died, how close the Boones came to losing their friend made his hands clench with rage. Daniel knew that he and Mingo would have to make sure the two were apprehended.

"Tell me about the moccasins, Mingo," he said quietly.

"They were huge, Daniel, garishly decorated. Any self-respecting Indian would be humiliated to be seen in such foot gear. They were covered with beads, in ridiculous patterns. Why would anyone call attention to having such large feet, Daniel?"

Daniel shook his head. "Can't say I got any idea, Mingo. I reckon we'll find out when we track those two down, though."

Mingo smiled, "How is your ankle, Daniel? Will we be tracking them down any time soon?"

Daniel rubbed his ankle before responding. "It'd take more than a bum ankle to keep me from gettin' back to Becky and the young'uns. How's your shoulder?"

Mingo's smile widened. He sat up carefully, favoring his sore ribs, and removed his right arm from the sling. He extended his arm fully, raising it until it was parallel with his shoulder. Daniel sat up too and whistled. As hard as they'd worked, Mingo had never been able to extend his arm so far. "What in tarnation happened?"

"Apparently it happened when I came sliding down after you and crashed into the rock, Daniel. As the pain has subsided, I've discovered that I can move it again. I have been experimenting a little to see what I can do with it."

Though still bruised badly, Mingo's shoulder moved more easily than Daniel had seen in months. Mingo's face was bright with happiness.

"We'll start practicing with your rifle tomorrow," Daniel suggested. "We're going to need it when we run across Tommy and Billy."

Mingo's smile turned grim. "Yes, Tommy and Billy are in for an unpleasant surprise!"

***********

They remained in the cave for one more day. Daniel's ankle was still very painful, but the big man was able to walk with the crutch. Though weak from lack of use, and sore from the most recent catastrophe, it was astonishing how much more Mingo could move his shoulder and use it. They spent the day practicing loading the rifle and aiming it quickly without firing a shot. Mingo could use the rifle competently though slowly. Daniel knew that his friend would not be content until his level of expertise was what it had been before his injury.

They feasted that night on a mallard that Mingo shot, the first time he had fired his rifle in months. Daniel was more tickled than Mingo. He shook his head and grinned foolishly. Mingo was amazed, in a state of jubilant disbelief. In spite of Dr. Jedrick's assurances, he had doubted he would have complete use of his arm again.

Daniel handed him a cup of coffee. "Put the sling back on and give it a rest. You don't want to overuse it." He pretended to consider the situation, "Suppose we should head back to Philadelphia and show Doc Jedrick? Miss Susan'd be thrilled for you!" Mingo's hand crept toward the tomahawk again, "No, no, put that tomahawk away!"

**********

Their travels took them west through Virginia then southwest down into Kentucky. Progress was slow, as Daniel's ankle was still troublesome. Adding to the problem was the fact that it was raining. It rained all day. Every day. They journeyed on through rain so heavy they could scarcely see a hand in front of their faces, making barely half the speed they usually managed. When they passed cabins or farms, or settlements, they always stopped to ask for news. Though the news was most often of Redcoat sightings or Indian attacks, occasionally an angry settler told them of livestock and supplies going missing. Since the stories always included huge tracks, and indiscriminate thievery, Daniel and Mingo were sure they were following Tommy and Billy.

Two rainy nights later, they found a shelter in another cave by a river. Since the night before they'd made do sheltering under a rocky cliff, a dry cave seemed like paradise. This cave was much larger than any they had nighted in so far, almost 20 feet wide with soaring spaces above them. It was also cold and damp, dark as night.

Mingo shivered. "Be it ever so humble . . ." He began to rummage in his bandoleer for his flint and striker.

Daniel dropped the armload of sticks he had gathered while they walked. "A fire'll make this place seem downright homey." He pulled off his sodden coat and groused, "Not only am I soaked to the skin, I stink like a buck that's been dead for a week."

Mingo looked up at from the fire he was building and laughed. "I wondered what that delightful aroma was! I feared it might be me!" A tiny flame curled up from the kindling and grass he had carefully gathered as they had walked. He shrugged out of his own wet coat, and complained, "I'm afraid to look too closely for fear I may be sprouting mold! How long has it been since we've been dry?"

Daniel pulled off his dripping coonskin cap and plunked it on the muzzle of Tick Licker. "I hate to tell you, but we're gonna get a lot wetter before the weather improves any. Did you take a good look at that river out there?" he continued.

Mingo nodded. "The snowmelt is running into the river. It seems to be in flood stage now. If this downpour continues, we may be stuck here for a day or so."

Daniel frowned, "If the snowmelt makes the river rise any more, this cave will flood, Mingo, and we'll have to head for higher ground, or chance crossing the river. We have to cross it anyway into Kentucky. Our only other option would be to head downriver and look for a shallower place to cross."

Mingo shook his head and shrugged. "At least we can sleep dry tonight, and worry about the river tomorrow," he said. He fumbled again in his bandoleer and brought out the last of the jerky. It too was damp and moldy. Mingo looked disgusted and threw the jerky away. "I was tired of jerky anyway," he muttered. "I am afraid it will be beans tonight, Daniel, unless you feel like fishing or trying to hunt in the rain."

Daniel yawned and settled himself against the cave wall. He draped the blankets over rocks near the fire to dry while Mingo brewed coffee and built the fire up. "Beans is fine with me," he said blandly. "Becky's always said I'm full of beans, anyway," he added grinning.

Mingo pretended to groan at the pitiful excuse for a joke. "In this instance, Daniel, I concur with your wife. However, I must disagree with you; you don't smell like a dead buck, more like a very large, very wet dog."

Daniel made himself comfortable by the fire. He yawned and stretched. "I don't recollect when I've felt so tired." He grinned at Mingo, "Wake me when supper's ready!"

Mingo smiled back. "I'll take the first watch, Daniel."

The sound of rain drumming was loud enough to be heard in the cave. After a day of being cold and wet, the fire's warmth made both men feel drowsy. Mingo put the pot of dried beans on to cook, and scooted over to sit against the cave wall with Daniel, who had already nodded off, snoring loudly. In spite of himself, Mingo's eyelids began to droop, and within minutes, he too was asleep. The flames began to flicker and die without attention.

Neither of them heard or saw the two men who slipped into the cave in almost complete darkness. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

When Mingo woke, it was to the point of a knife blade at his throat. Daniel, he saw, was trussed like a hog, with his hands tied behind him and lying on his side up against the wall of the cave. Both of them had been relieved of their knives, and their rifles were missing too. A filthy neckerchief was stuffed into Daniel's mouth as a gag. Mingo made no effort to resist, and quickly found himself likewise bound and gagged, lying near Daniel. His shoulder began to throb from the rough handling. Mingo shot an apologetic glance at Daniel who shrugged. He'd dozed off on guard duty himself, plenty of times. Such things happened, his eyes said.

Their buckskin-clad captors made themselves at home, and helped themselves to the beans and coffee that Mingo had prepared. The fire had been replenished and was now burning high. The pair sat close by laughing and wolfing down their meal. Mingo's fastidious nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of the men's steaming clothing.

Daniel kicked out and caught Mingo's leg with his foot; Mingo looked to see what he was jerking his chin at. With a shock of surprise, he realized that Daniel was gesturing at the larger of the two who had taken them captive.

He was at least 7 feet tall with the largest feet Mingo had ever seen. He remembered clearly where he had first seen them. Daniel kicked again; he raised his eyebrows. Stunned, Mingo slowly nodded his head. Their two captors were Tommy and Billy.

Daniel and Mingo exchanged speaking looks. There was no point trying to move or communicate. Tommy and Billy had them tied so securely, they could barely breathe, much less plan to escape. Another kick from Daniel got Mingo's attention again. Mingo grinned around his gag in spite of himself; from the kicking he was doing, Daniel seemed fully recovered from his sprained ankle. He raised his own eyebrows; Daniel shook his head. Mingo guessed that Daniel intended for them to wait until their captors were asleep before making any attempt to overpower them or escape.

There was no doubting Billy was the leader of the pair. He wore a greasy hunting smock over a pair of filthy buckskin pants. Middle-aged, several inches shorter than Daniel, he was stocky and barrel-chested. He had a face like a weasel. He wore thick-soled leather boots. Tommy, many years younger, had an air of animal-like stupidity about him. Sizing him up, Daniel guessed that Tommy stood several inches taller than himself, and Daniel was a very tall man. Tommy was dressed in what Daniel thought was meant to be Indian style clothing. Buckskin jacket, buckskin pants; what caught his eye was the garishly decorated pair of huge moccasins Tommy was wearing. Stars, flowers, he had never seen their like. Daniel agreed with Mingo that the moccasins were as remarkable for their embellishment as they were for sheer size. He had never seen such huge feet. In spite of hearing about them repeatedly, Daniel could not believe his eyes.

Billy cast a speculative look at Mingo. Tommy's only concern was how fast he could inhale his share of the beans and coffee. Daniel watched the pair intently.

Billy suddenly rose and approached them. He bent over and yanked off Mingo's gag. "I seen you before," Billy said, as he dragged Mingo upright. Mingo licked his lips and waited, silent under the uncomfortable scrutiny. Billy stared into Mingo's face.

Billy snapped his fingers, "I got it! You're the Injun Tommy shot back at Christmas. You ain't dead at all. How'd you manage that?"

Mingo shrugged as much as his bonds would allow.

The mention of his own name caught Tommy's attention. He looked up from the beans and stared at Mingo.

"You mean this is Boone and his Injun, Billy? Didn't we kill him? Why ain't he dead?" In spite of his size, Tommy's voice was high-pitched and young.

Billy shook his head disgustedly. "Tommy, you're so dumb, I don't know why I put up with you. It's like you ain't got a brain in your head. If he's sittin' in front of you, how's he gonna be dead?"

Billy gave Mingo a vicious kick that knocked the wind out of him. "Answer me, Injun. We left you for dead with an arrow stickin' out of your back. How come you to be here today?"

Mingo tried to catch his breath, as he wheezed, "Daniel found me. Aren't you out of your territory? Our trap lines are 250 miles from here."

"It ain't no business of yourn. We been makin' ends meet, you might say, by pilferin' from traps, and doin' a little borrowin' here and there," Billy said cheerfully. "Didn't figger when we lightened your traps that Boone'd bother comin' after us, 'specially if you was dead. We thought he'd cut his losses and quit."

"I'm glad you ain't dead," Tommy said suddenly. "I never meant to hurt no one. I thought you was an animal. I didn't want to leave you, neither. Billy always says, 'Kill or be killed'. You gotta kill animals to keep eatin'. I don't like hurtin' people though." Tommy looked sad.

Surprised, Mingo found himself pitying the foolish giant. It was obvious that slow-witted Tommy was afraid of the smaller and older Billy.

"I'm glad to know you meant me no harm. You're a very good shot," Mingo said in an admiring tone. "Why did you use an arrow, Tommy? Why such a large arrowhead?"

Tommy brightened. "I'm part Injun – my granny always said I was better with a bow'n arrows than ary an Injun she ever knew. I like big arrows. You can shoot big animals with big arrows. I thought you was an elk or maybe a bear. I never meant to hurt you none." Tommy looked as if he might cry. "Did I hurt you much?"

"It hurt," Mingo admitted. "Daniel and his family looked after me." Tommy still looked tearfully upset.

Mingo tried changing the subject to cheer him up. "Those are remarkable moccasins you wear, Tommy."

Tommy's face lit, "My old granny made 'em for me. She knew I like dressin' like Injuns do. I like my moccasins fancy. My granny made 'em purty for me. I allus wanted to be an Injun." Tears began to run down the giant's face. "My granny's dead now, so she can't make me no more moccasins."

Billy snarled, "Shut up, Tommy. You talk too much! Don't tell 'em nothin'." He suddenly stepped nearer the boy and aimed a kick at Tommy, who made no effort to duck the blow. Tommy's failure to defend himself seemed to escalate Billy's rage.

Billy moved quickly back to Mingo. Before he could brace himself, Billy kicked him in the ribs hard. Mingo caught his teeth in his lip, but made no sound. Billy kicked again, harder. This time, he succeeded in forcing a grunt of pain. Billy smiled at Mingo's reaction and pulled his leg back to kick again Before he could do so, Tommy jumped to his feet and seized Billy's arm. Billy was at least a foot or more shorter than Tommy. There was no way he could pull free of the giant's grasp.

"Let him be, Billy. He ain't botherin' you." Tommy shook Billy the way a cat shakes a mouse and dropped him. Tommy sat down again and turned his attention to the coffee left in the pot. Billy gave Mingo a look that made his blood run cold. It promised that Billy would find a way to continue the punishment Tommy had put a stop to.

Daniel shot him a questioning look. Mingo shook his head. Though his mending ribs were hurting, no major harm was done. He gave Daniel what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and tried to rest until Billy would begin abusing him again. He closed his eyes, but sleep was all but impossible.

Daniel flashed a furious look at Billy and Tommy. Tommy was unaware of Daniel's anger, but Billy caught the look and smiled mockingly. "So you're Boone. I disremember where I seen you before, but when Tommy shot your Injun, I recognized him too."

Daniel's angry eyes spoke volumes.

Billy said, "What's the matter, Boone? Cat got your tongue?"

Tommy looked up, "Ain't he got no tongue? Why did you gag him if he can't talk?"

Billy gave a long-suffering sigh. "Tommy, you are dumber than Balaam's ass. Course he's got a tongue." He hunkered down against a rock near the fire and made himself comfortable for the night.

Daniel managed to draw Tommy's attention. He jerked his head at Mingo, and Tommy's eyes widened. He seemed completely unable to understand what Daniel wanted. Daniel continued to make noises and roll his eyes until Tommy got the idea. Finally the giant nodded. He looked to see if Billy was watching.

Billy was dozing on the far side of the fire.

Tommy slunk over to Daniel and pulled off the gag. "Don't you say nothing and wake Billy," Tommy whispered. "If' he wakes up and finds you ain't got no gag, he'll be mad as a wet hen. I don't like it when Billy's mad."

"Mingo?" Daniel whispered. He was more relieved than he was prepared to admit when he heard the Cherokee's quiet voice.

"I am fine, Daniel," came the whispered response.

Daniel began to question Tommy. "Tommy, how'd you come to fall in with Billy? It don't seem like you agree with the things he does."

Tommy shook his head. "He took me from my granny's house after she died. I didn't have nowhere else to go. Billy's mean to me sometimes, but he looks after me. When I lived with my granny, folks'd yell mean things at me, throw things at me. It ain't my fault I'm so big. People call me a giant."

"Why did you go with him, Tommy? Did you know Billy before your granny died?" Daniel asked.

Tommy nodded. "Billy's kin to me. His pa was my grandpa's brother. He said we'd live like Injuns and go trappin'. I didn't know we was just gonna go stealin'."

Mingo whispered, "Billy will come to a bad end, Tommy. Thieves and killers usually do."

Tommy's face changed from sad to frightened, "What would happen to me if Billy didn't take care of me?"

Daniel answered, "Son, you'd learn to take care of yourself." Mingo nodded his agreement.

Tommy shook his head, "I'd rather have Billy bein' mean to me than be alone by myself. I don't like bein' alone worse than I don't like bein' with Billy." He turned away from Daniel and Mingo. It was plain that the subject was closed.

**********

Daniel lay quietly, careful not to remind Tommy of his missing gag. He could hear the rain continuing to pound outside. The rain beating away at the last vestiges of snow would make it melt quicker and flow into the river. He wished he could see how much the river had risen since he and Mingo had sheltered in this cave.

Billy's snores reverberated throughout the cave. Daniel whispered to Mingo. "Do you think you could run if we got loose?"

Mingo chuckled softly, "Daniel, have you forgotten that you are the one with the sprained ankle? I can run fine; it's my shoulder, not my leg." He craned his neck to see if he could spy Daniel.

Daniel began to roll himself nearer the fire. As Daniel rolled, Mingo shifted to watch his progress.

"Fight or run?" he whispered. The flames ate through the thongs binding Daniel's hands and he jerked them loose. He deftly loosened the thongs on his ankles and kicked his feet free.

Mingo whispered back, "I doubt I could take on a giant today."

Daniel rubbed his burned wrists. "I ain't sure I'm up for a giant any day, though I have to say Tommy don't seem like much of a fighter. It'd give me a heap of satisfaction to beat the stuffin' out of Billy anyways." He crept nearer to the sleeping Tommy and slid Tommy's knife out of its sheath while the boy snored on. Daniel moved noiselessly back to Mingo and cut the thongs on his wrists and ankles.

"You know I am a peaceable man, Daniel," Mingo said, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Fine," Daniel grinned back.. "I'll leave Tommy to you – I'll take Billy!"

They sat for a moment rubbing their wrists and ankles, letting the numbness subside. Daniel flexed and nodded. Mingo rose to his feet in a smooth movement. Daniel rose also.

"Just say the word, Daniel," Mingo hissed.

"How's about now?" Daniel said and pounced.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Daniel jumped over the fire and landed on the sleeping Billy. Billy came awake like an angry bear. His knife was in his hand before Daniel had a chance to draw a breath. Billy flung Daniel off him as easily as if he were a boy, and waved the knife viciously in his direction. Daniel dodged several knife thrusts, and managed to get close enough to parry Billy's wild stabs. His joined fists came up under Billy's chin with a blow that knocked him to the ground. Daniel seized the opportunity while Billy was down and looked for Mingo and Tommy.

He had to laugh in spite of the seriousness of the situation. The two were well matched. Mingo was a good ten inches shorter than the giant, but it was clear that Tommy had no fighting skills to speak of. Mingo swung wildly with his one good arm trying everything in his power to land a blow. Tommy's arms were so long, that Mingo could not get close enough to strike him. Every time Mingo ducked or feinted, Tommy simply switched arms. He held Mingo off easily with a hand on his forehead or chest. Mingo grew more exasperated with the situation. He danced around Tommy completely unable to touch him. Tommy made no effort to attack Mingo. He was simply intent on keeping him away. Suddenly Mingo broke free of Tommy's grasp and landed a left-handed jab to Tommy's stomach. The boy let out a "whoof!" and sat down sharply on the floor. Mingo reached in and seized the front of Tommy's buckskin shirt. The boy simply looked back through eyes welling with tears. Mingo dropped his fist, ashamed. Fighting with Tommy was like fighting with Israel Boone.

Mingo pulled him to his feet.

Tommy blubbered, "What'd you go and do that for? I wasn't even tryin' to hurt you none."

Daniel was having considerably more trouble with his opponent. Billy knew every dirty fighting trick in the book and had no qualms about using them. In fact, Billy seemed to have invented a few new ones. Daniel gave up trying to keep an eye on Tommy and Mingo – he knew Mingo's fighting skills were more than adequate. Billy circled Daniel warily, every so often feinting at him with the long knife he held in his hand. They scuffled for what seemed like hours, though Daniel knew it was only minutes. Billy was a fighter to be reckoned with. In spite of Daniel's advantage of height, the fur thief was slowly but surely wearing him out. Daniel knew he needed assistance. He looked for Mingo.

Mingo was sitting against the wall with Tommy. Daniel was astonished to see him hold a neckerchief out to Tommy who was weeping and wiping his eyes.

"Mingo!" Daniel bellowed. "Do you think you could lend me a hand here?"

Mingo patted Tommy's shoulder, and arose. He hefted a large rock experimentally. He stood waiting for an opportunity and pitched the rock. It caught Billy in the back of the head and the fur thief went down like a load of bricks.

"Thanks, Mingo," Daniel wheezed. "It shames me havin' to ask you for help!"

The Cherokee gave him a mischievous grin. "What are friends for, after all, Daniel?"

Daniel returned his grin, "Next time, I'll take on Tommy, and you can have Billy." Tommy's sobs were subsiding.

"Daniel, what are we to do with these thieves?" Mingo said. Billy was stirring, so Daniel clipped him again with the rock, and he subsided.

"Well, it's at least 300 miles to Salem. I reckon we could head for Boonesborough with 'em. It's a lot closer. Besides, Becky and the young'uns will be wonderin' what's happened to us. Bein's I'm a magistrate, we could manage to have a trial for them in Boonesborough."

Mingo nodded. "I don't relish the idea of taking these two anywhere, not Salem or Boonesborough." he said, frowning. He looked at Tommy, who gave no sign of understanding what Daniel was talking about. Mingo sighed heavily.

"I'll tie Billy while you look after Tommy," Daniel said and handed Mingo a leather thong.

Mingo took it reluctantly and tied Tommy's hands in front of him, then tied his ankles together. Billy was still out cold, so Daniel took the opportunity to tie his hands and feet. As an afterthought, Daniel tied the gag around Billy's mouth.

Mingo made sure Tommy's bonds were not too tight, and draped his own blanket over the giant.

Daniel sat down next to the fire. "I reckon we'd better take it in turns tonight. There's plenty of time 'fore we get to Boonesborough." he gestured towards Tommy.

Mingo nodded, "I'll take the first watch, Daniel. This time, I will manage to stay awake," he added apologetically.

Daniel shook his head, "It's as much my fault as yours that they managed to surprise us."

Daniel rolled himself up in his blanket and fell instantly asleep. Tommy too slept the sleep of the innocent. Billy lay twitching and testing his bonds. Mingo picked up the rock he had used to knock Billy out, hefted it, and got Billy's attention. Mingo mimed throwing the rock. Billy got the message clearly and lay quietly. Soon he too was asleep.

Mingo rose and stood in the cave entrance long enough to see that the rain was showing no signs of lessening. Coffee would help him remain awake, so he thrust the open coffee pot out into the deluge. Within moments, it was full of water, and he began to brew a pot of coffee. His coat was still sodden from the day's travel, and he had given his blanket to Tommy, so he sat down as close to the fire as possible.

Three hours later, Daniel woke and sat up. Mingo poured the last of the coffee into a mug for Daniel and handed it to him. Daniel handed Mingo his still-warm blanket. The cold Cherokee accepted it gratefully, rolled himself up in it and fell asleep.

Daniel sat by the fire, sipping coffee, considering the situation. He knew Mingo pitied the hapless Tommy. On one hand, Daniel usually felt as much sympathy for fur thieves as he did for a rabid wolverine. On the other hand, it was evident that there was no malice in the boy. Without his saying a word, Daniel knew Mingo had forgiven Tommy for his injury. The Cherokees were a great deal more compassionate toward people who were different than most white settlers. Mingo, who was both Indian and white man, understood better than anyone how difficult life was for someone who didn't fit in anywhere. Daniel shook his head. On the trip to Boonesborough, he and Mingo together would have to decide how to deal with Billy and Tommy.

Daniel collected some water the same way Mingo had – by sticking the pot outside the cave entrance. He mixed some cornmeal into cakes, and put the last of the beans on to boil. He thrust the coffee pot outside and began to brew a pot of coffee. Tommy and Billy would be willing to drink his coffee, he'd wager, even if Mingo would not. The rain, which had fallen steadily all the night, was still showing no signs of stopping. Daniel felt his jacket. Stiff, but dry. He shrugged into it, and stepped outside the entrance far enough to see the river. It was much higher than the previous evening. There was no evidence of coming day, even though Daniel knew sunrise was only a couple of hours away. Lightning flashing and thunder rumbling; it didn't look as if the rain would ease off any time soon. As Daniel stepped back into the cave, he decided to give Mingo the benefit of a few more hours of sleep.

Tommy and Billy were stirring too as Mingo sat up, yawned and stretched. Daniel's grin was nonchalant as he poured Mingo a cup of coffee and handed it to him. Mingo took a cautious sip, grimaced, but made no comment as he finished off the cup. Daniel handed him a couple of corn cakes. Mingo ate these without speaking, nodding his thanks.

Daniel poured some coffee into Mingo's empty cup, and moved to untie Tommy. Mingo cocked the trigger of his rifle, and pointed it at Billy. Daniel handed the boy coffee and a couple of corn cakes. Tommy ate them eagerly. Daniel handed him a couple more. When these too were gone, Daniel dumped some beans onto a plate and handed these over. Tommy ate hungrily, as if he were half-starved. Tommy reminded him of an over-sized Israel, Daniel thought to himself.

Daniel said suddenly, "How old are you, son?"

Tommy said, "I don't rightly know, Mr. Boone. I think I was fourteen when Granny passed, but I disremember when that was." Tommy began on his second plate of beans, paying no attention at all to Daniel or Mingo.

Daniel and Mingo exchanged looks. Tommy was barely more than a boy, and a simple-minded boy at that.

Mingo's lips were pursed as he looked at Daniel. Daniel knew as surely as if Mingo had spoken that he didn't want any punishment for Tommy.

"The law's the law, Mingo," Daniel answered Mingo's unspoken words. "It's the same for everybody. You know that a boy over the age of twelve is legally a man. Your own people reckon a boy's a man at twelve." he reminded him.

"Daniel," Mingo retorted, "My people know the difference between children and men." His voice was soft, but his expression was obstinate. Daniel recognized the look, and shook his head.

"Mingo," Daniel said, "The law don't make no difference between simpletons and those who ain't. If you can think well enough to commit a crime, you can take the punishment you deserve. You can't go around tryin' to kill people and expect to get away with it."

Mingo ignored Daniel and spoke to Tommy. "Have you had enough to eat, boy?"

Tommy grinned widely. "Aw, heck, I don't hardly ever get enough to eat. Billy says I eat more than three people."

Daniel dumped the rest of the beans on Tommy's plate, and poured him the rest of the coffee.

Billy's gag had been removed, and he began to complain, "Ain't you plannin' on feedin' me?"

Daniel said, "If there's any when the boy's had enough, you'll get fed. If there ain't, you can live on your meanness until Mingo or me can snare a rabbit or something for tonight."

Tommy immediately said, "I've had plenty. Billy kin have mine."

Daniel handed Mingo some leather thongs and said, "Tie thim up, Mingo. We can't take a chance."

Tommy was no happier at being tied up than Mingo was at tying him, but both gave in to Daniel's demand without complaint. Mingo tied Tommy securely and made sure he was comfortable. While Daniel held a gun on Billy, Mingo untied his hands and gave him the last of the corn cakes. Billy crammed them into his mouth.

Daniel said quietly, "How old is the boy, Billy?"

Billy shrugged, "I've had him for just about a year – this was our first trappin' season together."

"Are you related to him?" Mingo asked, as he tied Billy's hands again.

"He ain't no kin to me," Billy spat, "I just said that to get the magistrate to let me take him."

Tommy's face was shocked. "I thought you said my pa was your brother, that you were my uncle!"

"You ain't nothin' to me – I'd be ashamed to claim you as kin!" Billy spat.

Daniel glanced at Mingo; he looked as shocked as Tommy at Billy's words. Daniel knew family was sacred to the Cherokee people. They regarded children as the promise of the future.

Daniel's tone was sardonic. "So as I understand it, you took this poor homeless boy with you out of 'pure' human kindness. Never crossed your mind, I'll wager, how you'd use him as a golden goose. Tell me, Billy - why did you take him on then?"

"Nobody in that one-horse town wanted to look after a giant idiot! I figured if he wasn't no help to me in my endeavors, I'd just sell him to a medicine show as a freak!" Billy retorted sharply.

Mingo looked at Billy with revulsion, as if he were the embodiment of evil. He turned around to Tommy and gave him a look that was warm with sympathy.

In that second, Billy took advantage of Mingo's wandering attention. He kicked out with his tied feet and caught him squarely in the ribs. Mingo went over backwards, crashing into the cave wall, out cold. Luckily Daniel was still holding his gun on Billy. He crashed the butt of the rifle into Billy's head.

"You better be prayin' he's all right," Daniel snarled at Billy.

Billy grinned and rubbed his head. Daniel finished tying Billy's bonds. He tied them tightly, and with difficulty, refrained from giving Billy a kick in the ribs. Tommy crawled over to pat Mingo's face with his huge hands.

"Let me take a look, Tommy," Daniel said. Tommy moved and allowed Daniel to take his place. Mingo was pale, his breathing shallow. Daniel could see that while one side of his chest rose with each inhalation, the other side fell. If Mingo's ribs hadn't been broken before, they were now, Daniel thought angrily. Billy wore a satisfied grin, clearly pleased with himself.

By the time Mingo came around, Daniel had rebandaged his ribs, strapping them tightly. He was white-faced, but silent while Daniel helped him to a sitting position. An hour later, Mingo was still pale, his face drawn with pain.

Daniel touched his arm, "I hate to ask it of you, Mingo, but do you reckon you can travel? The river's risin' fast, and the sooner we get across and back to Boonesborough with these two reprobates, the happier I'll be."

Mingo nodded grimly, "I will be fine, Daniel." Daniel gave him an assessing look, then moved to untie Tommy.

"Tommy," he said to the boy, "I'm relyin' on you to make sure Mingo makes it across that river in one piece. Can you swim?"

Tommy nodded eagerly, "I'll help him, Mr. Boone. I kin swim better'n any fish!"

The idea of a 7 foot fish called to his mind the yarn he'd spun about the giant catfish. Daniel grinned in spite of himself, and gave Mingo a wink. "I'll depend on you, son. Take care of him."

Daniel pulled Mingo to his feet and handed him his rifle. He was pale and stood swaying but nodded, insisting he could manage. Tommy picked up Mingo's pack. Daniel shouldered his own pack and untied the thongs on Billy's ankles.

"Get up," Daniel ordered. Billy got to his feet slowly.

"How do you figger I'm gonna swim the river with my hands tied?" Billy demanded. A note of panic crept into his rough voice.

Daniel shrugged, "You kin worry about yourself the way you left Mingo to worry. Leastways you ain't got an arrow stickin' out of your back."

Daniel gestured with Tick Licker. "Move on out, Billy, and remember, I'll be only too happy to pull this trigger if you try anything funny on Tommy or Mingo or me."

Tommy put a supporting arm around the Indian's waist and Mingo leaned on him heavily.

"Won't nothin' happen to you, Mingo," Tommy promised. Mingo nodded, smiling faintly.

Daniel wished he felt as certain as Tommy that all of them would make it across the river. What couldn't be helped must be borne, Daniel thought. He'd have to depend on the boy to look after Mingo, since he expected Billy would give him a hard time crossing the swollen river.

Daniel looked at the sky. He reckoned it was a couple of hours past what should have been daylight. The day was gray with low-hanging clouds and the promise of heavy rain. Thunder and lightning were booming and flashing. As they neared the river, Daniel's worst fears were realized. The river was churning and boiling, rushing past them, much higher than he had anticipated.

Billy whined, "Boone, there ain't no chance in hell of makin' it across this!"

Daniel ignored him and turned to Mingo. "It ain't crested yet, Mingo. It's only gonna get higher. Still think you can make it? A wise man would hole up in that cave and just wait it out."

Mingo gave Daniel a weak but impish smile. "A wise man would build an ark, Daniel. I'll be fine. Tommy has promised to look after me."

Daniel's eyes held Mingo's for a long moment. Mingo nodded again.

Daniel sighed heavily and poked his rifle into Billy's back. "Move!" he barked. "Tommy, you keep ahold of Mingo, and stay behind me. Don't neither of you get near Billy," he warned.

Another sharp poke, and Billy stepped into the river, grumbling. Daniel followed him, moving with care. Mingo came next, with Tommy holding his arm securely. The boy's fear was apparent, but he stepped into the river in spite of it.

The river was about eighty feet wide, running about two feet higher than normal. Daniel knew that with snow also melting in the mountains, four inches of rain would bring the river to flood stage. There had been steady rain for at least five days. The icy temperature of the river made them all gasp, but Daniel's rifle kept Billy moving forward. In spite of his anger, Daniel had no intention of letting Billy drown and miss his hanging. When the fur thief stepped into a bit of current and lost his step, Daniel grabbed the thongs holding his wrists and pulled him to safety. Billy's head went under water, and he came up coughing and sputtering. Tommy was thin in spite of his great height, and Daniel feared that his strength might not be enough to get himself and Mingo to safety. Daniel looked back over his shoulder to see Tommy stepping carefully, following Daniel's path. He had a firm hold on Mingo's arm, Daniel noticed, mentally thanking Tommy.

Daniel never was certain afterward whether Billy took a mis-step or deliberately stepped into deep water. He let out a shout of what might have been fear, and disappeared into a swirling pool of water. Daniel cursed his luck, and dove after Billy. The rushing water seized Billy and carried him down river. Daniel hung on to Tick Licker for dear life and tried to swim after him.

Tommy let out a cry of fear as he saw Billy carried away, and watched Daniel dive after him. In that instant, he let go of Mingo's arm. Mingo's feet went out from under him, and he too was carried down river. Mingo took in a gulp of icy water, and disappeared. Tommy stood watching in panic as the Cherokee's limp form was carried away.

"Mr. Boone!" screamed Tommy, "I let go of Mingo! What'll I do?"

Daniel got his head above the water long enough to shout, "I put you in charge of him, Tommy. You have to save him! I've got my hands full with Billy!"

Tommy nodded, "Yessir, Mr. Boone! I kin catch him!" He rose up on his toes and dove headfirst into the current and vanished.

Daniel kept a tight grip on Tick Licker and grabbed for Billy. He managed to get his hand on the collar of Billy's hunting smock, and kept a death grip on it. Daniel came up for a lungful of air and cast about looking for Tommy and Mingo. He could see neither of them. Daniel prided himself on being a praying man, but he prayed as he hadn't in ages. He kept dragging Billy, who was a dead weight on him as he staggered toward the other side of the river. He tried to catch his breath as he heaved Billy to the shore. He managed to get himself and Billy on to the bank. Billy collapsed into a sodden lump. Daniel's knees buckled under him. He scanned the river frantically. There was no sign of Tommy or Mingo. Daniel got to his feet, and tried to peer through the driving rain. The Indian and the giant boy were gone as if they had never been. 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A bolt of lightning split the sky, and brought Daniel back to his senses. The flash illuminated the river, but nothing had changed. There was no sign of Mingo or Tommy. The crack of thunder reverberated as Daniel gave Billy the kick in the ribs he so richly deserved.

"If anything's happened to Mingo or Tommy because of your tomfoolery, there'll be the devil to pay," Daniel snarled as he yanked Billy to his feet. "You'll rue the day you was born."

Billy sank to his knees again, "It ain't none of my fault. You set a fool to look after your friend; you can't blame any of this on me."

"Tommy's ten times the man you are," Daniel said furiously. "I don't care if you crawl, but we are gonna find those two, and we are gonna do it now."

He took hold of Billy's collar and dragged him up again. "I'll kill you myself, so help me, God," Daniel rumbled, "if either of them are dead."

They headed down river following the direction Mingo and Tommy had been carried. The rain was driving into their faces, as they slogged along, heads down. Daniel searched as they walked, hoping for a sign of either of them. He and Billy had gone almost half a mile when Daniel saw the sight he was desperately seeking.

Mingo was unconscious or dead,caught up against an uprooted tree in the shallows. Tommy had a grip on the neck of Mingo's coat, and was trying his best to yank him free of the tree and drag him out of the river.

Daniel shouted, "Tommy, leave him, and come out of the river!"

Tommy heard Daniel's voice the second time he shouted. When he turned and saw Daniel; the boy began to weep with relief.

"Tommy," Daniel called again, "You come out – I'll get Mingo!"

Tommy shook his head. "It's for me to do, Mr. Boone, I let loose of him!"

Daniel sighed and shrugged. He hefted Tick Licker and knocked Billy in the back of the head. Before the thief hit the ground, Daniel lit out for the river, wading into the flood again. With Daniel helping, Tommy was able to pull Mingo loose from the tree branches. He splashed toward the river bank towing Mingo's limp form, Daniel following closely.

Tommy's resolve and strength failed him as they reached the bank and he allowed Daniel to lift the Indian and carry him to the sheltering trees. Mingo was tall, heavy and water-logged. Daniel couldn't imagine how the boy had been able to hang on to him, much less drag him to safety.

They staggered out of the river, Tommy breathing hard. Daniel handed Tick Licker to him, "If Billy wakes up and twitches a toe, you hit him. I ain't dealin' with him now," he instructed Tommy.

Daniel felt for a pulse under Mingo's chin, and nodded to Tommy. Daniel flopped him over on his stomach, carefully turned Mingo's head to the side and began to press on his back, then gently on his rib cage. Suddenly Mingo coughed and began to vomit muddy river water. Daniel sighed with relief, and extended a hand to Tommy, who gaped uncomprehendingly.

"Thank you, Tommy, for savin' Mingo's life." Daniel said.

Tommy accepted his hand, but protested, "I was the one who turned loose of him when you told me not to."

"Son, you was the one who saved him too." Daniel pointed out. They sat under the tree until Tommy's knees stopped shaking. The rain gave no sign of stopping, so Daniel decided to press on.

"Reckon you can hold that gun on Billy?" Daniel asked as he pulled Mingo to his feet. "We need to find some shelter and get dried out."

Tommy looked hesitant, but he picked up Daniel's rifle and pointed it at Billy. Daniel gave a satisfied nod. "Tommy, you took a big step toward bein' a man today."

Tommy smiled shyly. "Thank you, Mr. Boone. He gonna be all right?" he gestured toward Mingo who was still only semi-aware. Daniel hefted him over his shoulder, and straightened up.

"I reckon if we get him dried out, he'll be all right," allowed Daniel. "Like I told you before, if Billy even looks at you ugly, you go right ahead and shoot him, son."

**********

Daniel knew there were hundreds of caves in Kentucky, but he was nevertheless pleased when he and Tommy came upon still another cave less than a mile away. This cave was large, cold, damp, and much less pleasant than the cave of the night before, but it provided shelter from the pounding rain and lightning. They were all shivering when they got inside. Daniel put Mingo down, and checked Billy's bonds to make sure they were secure. After a moment's thought, he gagged Billy again. He set Tommy to scouring the cave for anything that might burn. Tommy was back in less than ten minutes with an armful of wood and news.

"Mr. Boone," Tommy began excitedly, "this here cave is huge! There's a heap of wood just around that turn!"

Daniel nodded, "Let's get us a fire started, then I'll go and have a look." Daniel took a mental inventory of their possessions. There was Daniel's pack containing the coffeepot, small kettle and a flint and steel. Tommy still had Mingo's pack which held their food – everything was soaked, but once it dried out, some might be edible. There were still two blankets, sodden and smelling of river water; Tommy had lost Mingo's rifle when the Cherokee missed his footing and went underwater. Daniel was thankful the giant had managed to catch Mingo – a rifle could be replaced easily enough. Mingo still was wearing his powder horn and shot bag. They would have to make do with only Tick Licker. Daniel and Mingo had both hung on to their tomahawks. Incredibly, Mingo still had his whip.

Daniel started a fire and added wood until it was huge and burning bright. Tommy hunkered down next to it and stretched his hands out toward the blaze. Daniel propped Mingo against a rock close to the fire too. The Indian was pale and shivering, still unconscious. Daniel stretched the two blankets over rocks close to the fire to dry them. He stepped back to the cave entrance and stuck the coffeepot out into the deluge of rain. When it was full, he brought it back to the fire and started to brew coffee.

"Tommy," Daniel said, "Think you could hold this gun on Billy while I go and take a look at this cave?" Tommy nodded, and Daniel added, "Remember what I said about shootin' him if he tries anything!"

Daniel rose, and taking a brand from the fire as a torch, headed into the gaping black hole. Tommy was beginning to feel edgy by the time Daniel returned some 30 minutes later.

Daniel took possession of Tick Licker, and sat down next to Mingo, shaking his head. "I walked steady for fifteen minutes, and still couldn't see the end to this cave," he said. "I've heard tell of a cave near Boonesborough that goes on for miles. I ain't sure if I believe it, but there's some swears it's so."

He poured out cups of coffee for himself and Tommy. "When Mingo comes round, we'll go and see what there might be in this cave," he said to the giant boy.

Tommy nodded eagerly, "Yessir, Mr. Boone! I ain't never been in a cave this big."

After an hour, when Mingo still hadn't regained consciousness, Daniel rose and checked on Billy's bonds again. He yanked the thief's hands behind him, and retied the thongs, adding another for good measure. Daniel tied Billy's ankles to his wrists, leaving him bent and uncomfortable. He made sure there were no rocks or anything else that the fur thief might use to cut through his bonds. He pushed Billy over on his side and left him lying with his face in the dirt and silt on the cave floor.

Daniel smiled with satisfaction. The blankets were mostly dry, so he wrapped them around Mingo. The fire had almost dried their clothes; Mingo was shivering only slightly now.

Daniel hefted Tick Licker and gestured to Tommy, "They'll keep until we get back. Let's us take a look into this cave."

He handed Tommy another brand from the fire and picked up his own. Daniel led the way into the unexplored darkness of the cave. They had gone barely 100 yards deeper into the blackness when they saw a small pool of water. They lifted their torches and saw that the water was crystal clear. Tommy grinned, delighted.

The boy cupped his huge hand and dipped it into the water. The water was icy. When Tommy began to drink the water, Daniel stopped him quickly. "Don't, Tommy. It ain't likely to be drinkable." Tommy nodded and let the water in his hand trickle back into the pool. Daniel gestured at the bottom of the pool. Tommy looked into the clear water and saw what looked like white fish swimming. Tommy was astonished – the fish had no eyes.

"How kin they see, Mr. Boone? They ain't got no eyes!" Tommy gasped.

"I'd reckon they don't need eyes since there ain't no light in this cave anyway." Daniel replied.

They rose to their feet and continued deeper into the cave. There were rock and crystal formations hanging down from the top of the cave, and more jutting up from the cave floor. More frightening were the vertical drops where the cave bottom fell away into darkness. After Tommy barked his shins for the third time, Daniel kindly told him to hold his brand closer to the floor, while he held his brand high. They continued on for several hundred more yards. All of a sudden, Daniel and Tommy heard the sound of wings. They both held their torches high and saw thousands of bats flying around high above their heads. Bats were everywhere; hanging from the ceiling, flying back and forth, making high-pitched squawking sounds; Suddenly, in a great wave, the bats headed for the entrance of the cave.

"Get down,son!" yelled Daniel, diving for the cave floor. Tommy ducked down too, as the last of the bats flew overhead.

Daniel grinned suddenly as he realized they were standing in great piles of bat manure. That accounted for the smell and the squishing sounds as they walked. He decided not to tell Tommy.

"Reckon we'd better head back to Mingo, Tommy," Daniel said. He guessed they had walked at least half a mile into the cave, and there were no signs that the end of the cave was anywhere near.

"We're lucky them bats weren't hungry, Mr. Boone," Tommy panted.

"Bats don't eat people, son," said Daniel. "I'd guess it's sunset outside the cave, and they're heading out for food. Most bats eat either bugs or fruit. They fly at night too, whether people can tell it's night or not." Daniel gestured with his torch. Tommy nodded and they headed back toward the fire.

As they walked, Daniel noticed rock formations he hadn't seen when they first walked into the cave. Suddenly Tommy let out a high pitched cry of pure fear and grabbed Daniel's arm.

Daniel looked to see what had frightened the boy. In a hollowed out area, fairly close to the entrance of the cave, there was a skeleton decked out in Indian clothing. It wore full ceremonial dress; a long silver scalp was still attached to the skull. There were feathers in the hair and a full set of weapons. There was a medicine bag, and a bow and quiver full of arrows lying on the ground near the skeleton. Two smaller bags had held cornmeal and salt long ago, Daniel knew. Firewood was stacked neatly to provide for the warrior's warmth in the afterlife. Daniel was certain the medicine bag would also contain a striker and flint.

Daniel smiled reassuringly, "He's been dead longer than both of us have been alive, Tommy. There ain't no such thing as ghosts. He can't harm us, and he probably wouldn't have wanted to when he was alive anyway. A lot of Indians hereabouts leave their dead in these burial caves."

Daniel gestured again with the torch, and filled his free arm with wood. "Come on, son. Let's head back. See if Mingo and Billy are gettin' along."

It was only a few minutes before they arrived back at their fire. Billy was squirming and trying to spit the gag out of his mouth. Mingo was sitting up, looking around groggily, mystified by his surroundings. When he saw Daniel and Tommy, his mouth quirked in a weak smile.

Daniel smiled back at the sight. "Tommy and me have been explorin' this cave. It goes on to kingdom come with no sign of stoppin'." He poured a cup of the coffee and put the cup into Mingo's hands. Mingo accepted the cup with thanks, but made no attempt to drink.

Daniel turned to Tommy and said, "There's some believe the name Cherokee means people from the land of caves. Mingo oughtta feel right to home here! You reckon you and him could hold down the fort while I go see about some supper?"

Tommy nodded enthusiastically; Mingo said, "I reckon so, Daniel." His eyes were already closing again.

Daniel gave them a salute and headed out of the cave. He was glad to see that the rain had slacked off to a drizzle. This meant that he would have more luck in his hunt for a turkey. Daniel knew that turkeys disliked the woods on a wet day. He could move in closer than usual because of their poor vision and hearing. Daniel found an open spot close to the river and the cave, hunkered down and waited. He could see a few hens already in the field, but Daniel was hoping for a larger gobbler. Creeping up on the hens, Daniel made a gobbling sound. When he heard a tom respond, Daniel grinned to himself. Just a matter of time now. The wily old gobbler came into sight and Daniel aimed Tick Licker. He drilled the turkey right through the head. Hens flew into the air and vanished. Daniel rose, whistling cheerfully, retrieved the bird, and headed back to the cave.

As he entered the cave, Tommy saw the turkey and cheered. Mingo came awake instantly, his knife in his hand. When he saw Daniel, he relaxed and sheathed his knife, grinning sheepishly.

"You ever plucked a turkey, Tommy?" Daniel asked. Tommy nodded, and picked up the huge turkey. "Go right ahead then, son. Be sure and save the feathers for Mingo. His are lookin' kinda pitiful after that swim he took."

Some hours later, they had reduced the turkey to a pile of bones. Tommy ate an incredible amount, to Daniel's amusement. Mingo, who had refused any turkey, slept huddled up in both blankets. Tommy was yawning.

When Tommy finished eating, Daniel released Billy's hands from his ankles so he could finish off the turkey. Daniel sat with Tick Licker trained on the surly thief. Billy inhaled the rest of the turkey. All the while, his ferrety eyes were on Tommy, dozing by the fire.

Billy kicked Tommy's leg before Daniel could intervene. "Did you enjoy that turkey bird, Tommyboy? When Boone gets you to Boonesborough, they'll stretch your neck for shootin' his Injun. Stretch it so far you'll be even taller, and you sure won't be doin' any swallerin'."

"That'll do, Billy," Daniel backhanded him. "Leave the boy alone." He quickly retied Billy's bonds and gagged him.

Tommy was upset by Billy's words. He sat pondering for a moment.

"Mr. Boone," Tommy began in a hesitant voice, "Is Billy right? Are they gonna hang me in Boonesborough for shootin' Mingo?"

Daniel was noncommittal. "Son, shootin' another man is a serious thing. Even if you didn't know it was a man. The fact that you and Billy knew and left him don't look real good for you. I'm the magistrate in Boonesborough, so I'll do all I can to help you. The fact that Mingo's already forgiven you for it, and that you're really just a tall young'un ought to be in your favor."

Billy was making noises under the gag, so Daniel obligingly removed it and allowed him to speak. "I didn't shoot your Injun, Boone. You can't hang me for somethin' I didn't even do!"

Daniel nodded, "You didn't shoot Mingo, but you tried to kill him when he couldn't protect himself, and you were the one who taught Tommy to go pilferin' other folks' traps. Speakin' as the magistrate, and as Mingo's friend, it ain't lookin' any better for you than Tommy. The boy's at least got his age and bein' sorry in his favor. If I wasn't a law-abidin' man, and a magistrate to boot, I'd string your sorry hide up right here and save us all the trouble of traipsin' you back to Boonesborough."

Daniel checked and double-checked Billy's bonds. He relented and retied the leather strips between his feet and hands so that the thief could at least sit propped up against the cave wall. Tommy offered his hands for binding. Daniel shook his head, "No, son, I'm gonna need you to help me stand watch tonight. I believe you're an honest man, and I trust you to do the right thing. You lie down and catch yourself a few winks. I'll wake you when I want you to spell me." He continued, "Tommy, how are you with a long rifle?"

"Mr. Boone," Tommy said, "I ain't never fired a rifle. My granny showed me how to use a bow and arrow when I was just a sprat."

Daniel grinned at Tommy's words, "You musta been quite a tall sprat even back then."

"Yes, sir," the boy giant said seriously. "I had most of my growth when I was 10. My granny said my grandpa was tall, but even he weren't as tall as me."

Daniel nodded, "I know how you feel,son. I was six foot tall when I was 10 too. You say your granny taught you to use a bow?"

The boy smiled, remembering. "Yes, sir, my granny. I tole you I was part Injun. She said people'd always pick on me, expectin' trouble since I'm so tall. She said I'd better learn to look after myself. She couldn't heft no rifle, but could she use a bow!"

Daniel was silent, thinking. "Well, son, we'll make do with Tick Licker between us tonight, but tomorrow we'll 'borrow' that bow and arrows from Chief Grinnin' Bones back in the cave. I reckon our need is greater than his." 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Daniel kept watch most of the night, while Tommy slept the deep sleep of the young who can fall asleep anywhere. Billy too slept without moving. The Cherokee stirred restlessly, occasionally muttering in his sleep. Daniel was adding wood to the fire when he became aware of Mingo's fever-bright gaze on him.

"Daniel," began Mingo, "Was I dreaming, or did I hear you talking about 'borrowing' the bow and arrows from Chief Grinning Bones? Who, I fear to ask, is Chief Grinning Bones? Please don't tell me this is a burial cave!"

Daniel grinned innocently, "All right then, Mingo, I'll just say that the end justifies the means."

Mingo groaned and struggled to a sitting position. "Daniel, I keep telling you that Indian burials are sacred! It is suicide to desecrate the bones or weapons of a dead warrior. You cannot pick and plunder what you like from an Indian's burial place! We must leave this cave tonight!"

Daniel shook his head, "Mingo, if we tried to leave tonight, I figure there'd be two dead Indians instead of one in this here cave. But if you think you're up for it . . ."

At Daniel's challenge, Mingo threw off the blankets and tried to rise. He sagged back against the rock he'd been leaning against.

Daniel's smile was smug. "Thought so. We'll just hole up here for another day or so till you can manage on your own. Me and Tommy are gonna have our hands full keepin' Billy in line. He's already tried for you once. He ain't plannin' on you makin' Boonesborough alive. You're the only witness against him."

Mingo noted that Tommy seemed to have been absolved of blame in Daniel's mind, and smiled to himself.

"Still, Daniel," he warned, "I don't like the idea of disturbing a dead Indian. It doesn't sit well with me. I will not sleep one wink while we are in this burial cave." His expression was stubborn, but he was drooping with exhaustion and pain.

Daniel ignored him. Before it was time to shake Tommy awake, Daniel heard soft snores coming from the Cherokee. He tucked the blankets around his wounded friend, and chuckled. "Pleasant dreams."

When Daniel awoke from his well-earned sleep, it was to the smell of fresh coffee and Tommy's bright smile.

"Fixed you some coffee, Mr. Boone." Tommy poured out a cup and passed it over to him.

Mingo was stirring, so Daniel handed the cup to him and waited for his reaction. "Couldn't sleep, I thought you said?" Daniel smiled innocently.

Mingo gave him an exasperated scowl. He took a cautious sip of the coffee; his brown eyes widened in surprise. "Daniel, this isn't your coffee! It 's drinkable!"

"Tommy, you're squirming like a dog with two tails," Daniel grinned, "Reckon you'd better tell Mingo who fixed the coffee!"

"Well done, Tommy!" Mingo gave the boy a smile. To his great pleasure, Daniel and Tommy were forming a fast friendship.

Billy watched them the way a fox watches chickens. Daniel and Mingo ignored him, but Tommy seemed confused. He kept sneaking looks at Daniel and Mingo, then glancing back at Billy. Daniel caught Mingo's eye and cocked his head at Tommy. The Cherokee shrugged. Only Tommy could decide which path to choose: the one Daniel and Mingo followed, or Billy's.

Daniel gave Tommy a wink, "Let's go visit our friend, Grinnin' Bones," he said. He handed Tick Licker to Mingo.

Mingo leaned back against his rock. "Just don't tell me," he said, shaking his head. "What the eye doesn't see, the heart cannot grieve for!"

Billy was making noises, but Mingo ignored them. Every breath he drew was painful, and the slightest movement was agonizing. He would never admit it to Daniel, but he was glad of an extra day's rest. He closed his eyes to avoid Billy's glare, and drifted into a doze, the rifle across his knees. He woke suddenly when Daniel and Tommy returned, carrying a sturdy bow and a quiver of arrows.

"Ain't we in 'high spirits'?" Daniel joked. Mingo groaned at the pun.

It was obvious that Tommy was an expert with the bow and arrow. Daniel admired the calm competence the boy showed as he tightened the sinew bowstring. He could see Mingo's troubled eyes were on the bow and arrow, still upset that they had disturbed the dead Indian.

"Don't worry, Mingo," Daniel assured him, "We didn't do any desecratin' or dishonorin'; we just took his bow and arrows and left old Grinnin' Bones sleepin'." Tommy glanced over and caught Daniel watching.

"The bowstring gets loose after time in a place like this," the boy said somberly. "If I let it sit by the fire, it should tauten right up."

Daniel nodded. He turned and headed toward the cave entrance. The rain was still pounding down in torrents. He felt rather than heard movement behind him, and turned to find Mingo regarding him steadily.

Daniel answered Mingo's unspoken question. "He journeyed many years ago, Mingo. We made sure he still had a knife and a tomahawk."

"Thank you, Daniel, for respecting my beliefs," Mingo said, "In spite of the time I spent in England, I find myself thinking like an Indian when it comes to the spirit world." He shivered, and Daniel wondered if it was because he was cold or if he was thinking of ghosts.

Daniel waved off Mingo's thanks, "I'm used to your fits 'n starts. What are friends for? Still stormin' pretty bad," Daniel gestured outside the cave. "I know the boy's starvin', and I could use a bite myself. I'll take him and that bow out directly and try to scare up something to eat."

"I too am hungry," Mingo admitted. "Daniel, how much longer do you think this rain can continue?"

The big man gave the Cherokee a sidelong glance and grinned, "Mingo, I think even Noah'd have started worryin' by now."

Mingo returned Daniel's smile. "Daniel, you are an optimist. Noah would have started constructing an ark long before this."

Daniel nodded. "It's been, what, a week now of this rain? It can't last too much longer. We're all right for coffee, got a little cornmeal left. You're the fisherman; you think it's worth tryin' to fish in this weather?"

Mingo considered for a moment, "If you didn't mind being killed by a lightning strike, it might be worth a try." His face was somber, but his voice was full of humor.

Daniel snickered. "You're right. The boy's as tall as one of Ben Franklin's lightnin' rods. Reckon we'll try for another turkey."

**********

Mingo eased himself down close to the fire. He shivered and pulled the blanket around his shoulders tighter. Tommy immediately added more wood to the blaze. Since their arrival in the cave, he had made it his job to collect firewood and keep the fire burning. They had burned up Chief Grinning Bones' woodpile, so Tommy collected wood outside the cave, and stacked it near the fire ring so the warmth of the fire dried out the wet wood insuring a steady supply of fuel. He sat gazing at Mingo expectantly.

"Do you think your grandmother was Cherokee?" Mingo nodded his thanks.

"I think she mighta been," Tommy said. "Her name was Nancy Smiling Dove. She said when she met my grandpa, she left her people. She never lived with them again. She said my grandpa was the tallest man she ever seen. Until me. She called him Tall-as-the-Trees. My ma died when I was born. My pa didn't stay around after that. Granny said my pa believed that it was bornin' me that killed my ma. He couldn't look at me. Granny called me Thomas Talltrees. That's the only name I've ever had."

Mingo nodded, "Those are extraordinary – fancy, I should say – moccasins your granny made for you. She must have been an accomplished needlewoman. The bead work is quite intricate."

Tommy's face split in its familiar happy smile. "These here are the last ones she made for me 'fore she went. She knew she was fixin' to pass over, so she made 'em big enough for me to grow into. If I take 'em off, I'll lose the last bit of Granny, but they're getting' too small now."

Mingo said politely, "They are rather more elaborately beaded than most Indians would wear."

"What does that mean?" Tommy puzzled.

"The designs your granny used are most unusual for Cherokee moccasins," Mingo told him.

"That's just Granny," Tommy said and continued. "I allus thought there was somethin' wrong with me, bein' so all-fired tall, but Granny said the Creator don't make mistakes. She said He made me so big the whole world'd have to sit up and notice me," Tommy continued, smiling. "Granny said she'd make my moccasins so special, the world'd take notice of them too."

"They are indeed worthy of notice," Mingo assured the boy. "I have never seen such beautiful moccasins. If I had such a pair, I would be proud to wear them." Mingo suddenly realized, to his own surprise, that his words were true. He had indeed grown fond of the boy giant.

Tommy said, "I almost didn't have no more moccasins after I lost Granny's thimble." The boy's eyes filled with tears.

"Was it a special thimble?" Mingo asked quietly.

"It was a present from Tall-as-the-Trees. Granny made our livin' by sewin' for folks in the town where we lived. She made clothes for the white settlers, but she made moccasins for herself and for me. It was a pretty silver thimble that he gave her when they wed. She'd let me hold it while she sewed and hand it to her when she needed it. I wasn't never to touch it 'less she were sewin'. One day, I was playin' with it. Granny called me to come do some chores, and I put it in my pocket so's I could slip it back into her sewin' basket without her noticin'. While I was choppin' wood, or weedin' or fetchin' water, it fell through a hole in my pocket. I hunted and hunted, but I couldn't find it. I had to tell Granny I'd lost her thimble. She cried and cried. It was the only thing she had left that Tall-as-the-Trees had given her. She said she didn't think she could sew no more without it." Tommy poured the last of the coffee into a tin cup and handed it to Mingo, who thanked him and settled his back more comfortably against the rock.

Tommy continued his story. "I cried too and I begged Granny to beat me for bein' so bad. She said beatin' me wouldn't bring back the thimble. I knew I hadn't of taken it, and she knew I was sorry. I got her another thimble with money I earned doin' chores. She made the first pair of special moccasins that Christmas. She said they were to remind me that I was a special person. She said people were more precious than possessions, and that I was a greater treasure to her than any old thimble."

"Your grandmother was a wise woman," said Mingo, nodding. "Had she stayed with her people, she would have come to be called 'Beloved Woman' for her wisdom."

"She didn't hold with the white folks' ideas about Christmas, though," Tommy said, "She said Christmas was more than presents and celebratin'."

"'Drinkin', and dancin', and debauchery', I believe you said, Mingo." Daniel's voice suddenly entered the conversation. The big man had come up quietly and stood listening to Tommy's story.

"Those were my words, Daniel," Mingo nodded. "You told me that Christmas was a time of peace and goodwill, love and forgiveness. You and your family have shown me that Christmas should be 'kept' all year, not just at Christmastide."

"So you understand keepin' Christmas now," asked Daniel, "And what it means to folks? That it's more than 'drinkin', dancin', and debauchery'?" Daniel began to snicker, "Though I've seen you drinkin' and bein' debauched by Miss Susan, I recollect I ain't yet seen you dancin'! I'm glad to know you understand how important keepin' Christmas really is."

"Yes, Daniel," their eyes met, "I believe I do."

Daniel nodded. "Reckon I'll have to carry you to Boonesborough for Christmas this year?"

Mingo shook his head, "You will not need to carry me, Daniel. I will be there, with bells on."

Tommy regarded Mingo with astonishment, "You'll be wearin' bells, Mingo?"

Daniel and Mingo both laughed. "No, Tommy," Mingo assured him. "It is a figure of speech, which means that I will be there on time, ready and willing to celebrate."

Daniel nudged Tommy, "Let's go get us a turkey, son." he told the giant boy. "Go get that bow and them arrows. I want to see what you can do with it."

The rain had eased, so Daniel and Tommy headed out of the cave in search of supper. Daniel left Tick Licker with Mingo, who sat cradling the rifle in his arms, close to the fire.

Daniel took Tommy directly to the field where the turkeys had been feeding the day before. Now, as then, the turkeys preferred the open field to the forest in the falling rain. As turkeys' sight and hearing were poor, they tended to gather in open fields in wet weather.

"You ain't sick of turkey, are you, Tommy?" Daniel grinned.

"No, sir," Tommy said seriously. "I ain't sick of eatin', neither."

He drew an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder, and carefully lined the nock up with the bowstring. He nodded to Daniel, who began to gobble like a turkey. Several of the hens in the field lifted their heads. Daniel shook his head; he wanted another fat tom. Tommy waited motionlessly, steady as a rock. A few minutes later, a male turkey wandered into view. Daniel gobbled louder. The turkey's head came up and he gazed around him warily. At Daniel's nod, Tommy loosed the arrow. It took the turkey squarely through the head. Tommy started to retrieve the turkey. Daniel grabbed the boy's arm, and gestured at the bow and the rest of the turkeys. Tommy's eyes widened; he nodded and lined another arrow up. Daniel gobbled again, and the hens crept nearer. Daniel gobbled louder, and one particularly large hen came into view. Daniel nodded; the arrow shot from the bow, neatly piercing the hen's head. Tommy rose and collected both turkeys. Daniel shook his head, amazed. The bow and arrow looked like a child's toys in Tommy's huge hands, but the boy used them with great skill. He praised Tommy's archery skills. The rain which had slackened to a drizzle began to pound again.

"The bowstring was a trifle loose," Tommy said candidly. "I couldda shot farther if it had been taut."

Daniel patted the boy's shoulder. "You did fine, Tommy. Let's get back to the cave and start cookin' these birds before Mingo perishes from starvation."

*********

Back in the cave, Billy was sawing away at the leather straps binding his hands and biding his time. Mingo held the gun firmly in his hands, but Billy could see that the heat of the fire and weakness were making him drowsy. Mingo's head jerked as he drifted off to sleep; he caught himself, sat upright, and watched Billy closely. As the minutes passed, Mingo's head began to nod again. Before long, he was deeply asleep.

Billy grinned inwardly. He'd have to kill the Cherokee if he hoped to avoid being hanged in Boonesborough. He knew he'd have to escape before Boone learned of the other crimes that Billy Baggett had committed throughout the region. Billy hadn't confined himself to Kentucky; he'd robbed and pillaged throughout western Virginia and the Carolinas as well. He just plain liked stealing; why should a person so good at "borrowing" other people's goods bother to work? Sweat and aching bones just didn't suit Billy Baggett. He'd done everything from petty theft, to stealing from traps, to raiding livestock; anything that could be stolen could be eaten or sold or traded.

Boone and his Injun hadn't yet noticed that there were brands on both of his hands. There was a "T" for theft, and an "M" for manslaughter. He hadn't meant to kill the kitchen wench who caught him stealing spoons from her mistress's pantry; it had been an accident. He had deliberately murdered the old servant who found him rummaging through his master's house. Now, if he were taken in a crime and returned to Salem, he'd be hung. He'd had his three chances. He was overdue for the hangman's rope.

Billy hadn't reckoned on the Injun surviving the attack on him. That fool Tommy had mistaken him for an animal. The real mistake was not making sure the Injun was dead. The arrow in his back and the beating Billy gave him should have been enough to kill him, but it seemed Boone regarded the one called Mingo highly enough to return for him. The Injun had more lives than a cat. He'd survived the arrow wound and a beating, and being left to die in a blizzard. An expert at dirty fighting, Billy knew he'd broken the Indian's ribs when he'd kicked him. Then he'd pretended to lose his footing in the river, forcing Boone to come after him. He hoped Boone might drown rescuing him, and honestly thought the Injun would not survive his near drowning. Both hopes had come to nothing.

The giant idiot he'd pretended to be kin to hadn't worked out the way Billy hoped either. The simpleton just didn't have the stomach for doing what needed to be done, whether it was killing or doing Billy's bidding. The consarned fool had formed an attachment for Boone and the Injun too. Billy's golden rule was do unto others before they can do unto you. How many times had he told Tommy that it was kill or be killed? Billy had no qualms about killing the Injun and Boone too. He'd killed even before he'd been tried for murdering the kitchen wench. Her death just was the first time he'd been caught at it. It was a shame that he'd have to kill the idiot too. He'd tried valiantly for almost a year to teach Tommy the ways of the world. In the end, Tommy was just a giant nuisance, calling attention to himself by his sheer size. Worse, Tommy had a streak of goodness Billy couldn't kick or beat out of him. Still, he considered, if he could frighten the blubbering fool, he might be able to insure Tommy's silence, and use him as he'd done until he could find a medicine show willing to take him off Billy's hands.

Billy studied the Injun sleeping by the fire. He grinned evilly. It'd been a pleasant surprise when Boone forgot to retie his feet. He'd managed to quietly saw part way through the ties on his wrists even before the Kentuckian and the idiot giant left the cave. It was simply a matter of waiting until the Injun let down his guard. This time, Billy figured, Mingo'd used up his nine lives.

Billy threw off his ties and rose to his feet. Before Mingo knew what was happening, Billy grabbed Tick Licker out of his hands. He crashed the rifle butt into Mingo's face . Mingo dropped without a sound. Billy unsheathed the Cherokee's knife, and took his tomahawk. Billy regarded his limp form for an instant then clubbed Mingo once more just for the pleasure of it. Now the Injun was hardly breathing. He'd have time to take care of the body later.

Boone and the idiot would probably be returning soon from the hunt. Billy knew that Boone had a knife in his boot. He figured there were only a few minutes left before Boone and Tommy would return from the hunt. He positioned himself behind a large boulder inside the cave's entrance. He could hear Boone and Tommy returning, making no effort to be silent. They were laughing and Daniel was congratulating Tommy on his hunting skill. As they entered the cave, Daniel slapped the giant boy on his shoulder. Tommy ducked down to avoid hitting his head on the formations hanging down.

"I'd stop right there if I was you, Boone," Billy sneered, as he pointed the gun at Daniel and Tommy. "I took care of your Injun friend for good this time. I'll take pleasure in killin' you too. Drop your knife, Boone. Keep your hands where I kin see 'em. I don't mind blowin' a hole in you if you try anything!"

"Where's Mingo?" blurted Tommy. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"You don't need to worry about that Injun, Tommyboy," snarled Billy, "I made sure he won't never reach Boonesborough to testify against me. He'd of been the last nail in my coffin lid with all the other little things I've done. The knife, Boone."

"Other little things, Billy?" Daniel played for time, sizing up the situation. He withdrew his knife and tossed it on the ground in front of Billy, who scooped it up and stuck it in his waistband along with Mingo's.

"A few," Billy admitted. "You didn't notice these here brands on my hands. One's for thievin', the other's for manslaughter. The next time I'm hauled up for justice before a magistrate, I'll swing. It don't matter how many more I kill. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb!"

"I suspected as much," Daniel agreed. He took a step forward, and Billy stepped backward. He gestured with the gun and Daniel stopped. Tommy stood motionless where he had first seen Billy and the gun, still carrying the two dead turkeys.

"Come on in, boy," Billy grinned in invitation. "Make yourself useful and start pluckin' those birds. Killin' makes a man hungry."

Billy gesticulated with the gun, beckoning Daniel and Tommy deeper into the cave. They headed for the fire. Daniel took another step forward, hiding Tommy from Billy's sight. The boy slipped the bow off his shoulder before Billy could notice, and leaned it behind a rock. The quiver followed the bow into its hiding place. In amazement, Daniel realized that Billy had not seen the boy hide the bow and arrows.

Suddenly Billy sprang forward, hefted the gun and crashed the butt into Daniel's face. Daniel fell to the ground stunned. Billy retrieved the leather thongs he had himself been tied with and tied Daniel's hands and ankles. He left Tommy free to deal with the turkeys. From where he lay, Daniel could see Mingo lying near the fire. The light in the cave was so poor, he couldn't tell if Mingo was breathing or not. He knew from experience that Billy was a vicious man, and he now held all the weapons.

Tommy obediently began plucking the two turkeys, as Billy had commanded. He never glanced at the Cherokee or Daniel; his attention was all on Billy.

"I'll get these plucked right fast, Billy," Tommy promised. "I know you're hungry. Won't be no time a'tall." The boy sat down close to the fire, and began plucking busily. Though Tommy carefully avoided looking at Mingo, Daniel could see that Tommy was near enough to touch him with the toe of his enormous moccasin.

"Drag that stinkin' Injun away from the fire. You kin haul him back into the cave with that other dead one later." Tommy leapt to his feet, seized Mingo under the arms, and dragged him away from Billy's view. He made a considerable noise dropping Mingo near the rock where the bow and quiver were stashed. Daniel heard a faint moan from the Cherokee. Billy missed it, but Tommy heard it too, and burst out in song.

To Daniel's astonishment, the boy was singing in Cherokee – Daniel had heard Mingo sing Cherokee songs many times before on their trips together. The tune was familiar but the words to this song were none Daniel had ever heard.

Tommy sang in a quavering tenor, "Just lie there, he thinks you're dead. Just lie still, don't move your head. Lie still, lie still, he thinks you're dead. Don't move at all, he thinks you're dead!"

Billy Baggett was annoyed with the boy. "Shut up, ee-jit! I don't trust you singin' no words I can't make out. If you're gonna sing, sing somethin' ever'body can sing!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Mingo's foot move. Tommy saw it too. He defied Billy and sang louder, to drown out any noise Mingo might make. Daniel fervently hoped his friend would take the hint and remain quiet.

Billy grew angrier, "I tole you, hush that foolishness before I hush it for you! I need to hear myself think!"

In spite of Billy's threat, Tommy bravely sang his song, "Lie still, don't worry, I'll make it right, just lie there, it will be all right."

Billy aimed a kick at Tommy, and snarled, "Hush your foolishness, boy. I need to hear myself think!"

Mingo had apparently gotten the message. There was no further noise from the Indian.

"Ain't you just the songbird?" Billy snarled. "I ain't decided yet how to kill you, Boone, and I ain't decided whether to kill the boy or sell him to a circus. I ain't sure how hard giants are to come by. You, though, Boone; I hear tell there's a bounty on your head. Might could take you to a British fort and turn you in. Dead or alive, it don't matter none to me." Billy talked on, clearly fond of the sound of his own voice.

With something of a shock, Daniel realized that Mingo's eyes were now open, and the Cherokee was slowly inching himself along the cave floor. While Billy talked on, Mingo crept inch by inch toward the bow and arrows. Incredibly, Billy seemed unaware of Mingo's movement.

Tommy caught Daniel's eye; his huge hand moved in a gesture that mimicked the release of an arrow from a bow. Daniel shook his head slightly; in the condition he was in, Mingo was more apt to be killed by Billy than to overtake him. Tommy made the gesture again. Daniel's eyes widened, and he shook his head again harder. Tommy smiled broadly, and continued plucking the turkeys. Daniel noticed that Tommy was neatly making a pile of feathers between his feet. The boy was gazing at Billy with open admiration as he worked.

Billy was still talking. "How many hundreds of pounds do you think them Redcoats'd pay for you, Boone? It wouldn't matter none if you was dead or alive, but it'd be easier to walk you to them than carry you. If I had a thousand pounds, I could live like a king."

Tommy nodded, still plucking away as Billy thought out loud. Mingo continued to slide toward the bow. At one point his moccasin toe slipped and a rock rolled toward the fire and Billy. Daniel almost groaned out loud, but the Cherokee froze, and Tommy just as quickly shifted his huge feet, making a pile of rocks roll, covering the noise. He winked at Daniel smoothly. The big Kentuckian wondered if Billy thought simple meant the same thing as stupid.

Tommy spoke suddenly, loudly, "Billy, kin I still stay with you? I'll do better at what you tell me. I ain't really stupid like you say." Behind his gag, Daniel grinned. It was as if the boy was reading his mind!

Billy flapped an arm at the boy, "I'm still plannin' on sellin' your sorry hide; circus or freak show, it don't matter none – whichever'll pay me most!"

Mingo was more than halfway to the bow and arrows. Daniel caught Tommy's eye again, jerked his chin at the Cherokee, and shook his head furiously. Tommy seemed to be listening to something Daniel couldn't hear. His face was rapt while he watched Billy boasting. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see that Mingo was almost within reach of the bow. The Cherokee's hand reached for the bow and quiver.

Daniel was ready to explode with anxiety and frustration. His bonds were too tight for him to be of any assistance, Mingo was too weak to overtake Billy, and Tommy, poor, foolish giant, sat grinning and plucking the turkeys.

Suddenly the world turned upside down.

In a single instant, Tommy's huge hands scooped the pile of turkey feathers up and he threw them into the air, whooping, "Lookee, Billy, it's rainin' in this cave now!"

Turkey feathers rained everywhere as Mingo lurched unsteadily to his feet, scooped up the bow and arrows and turned toward Billy. Daniel knew in an instant that there was no way Mingo could pull the bowstring and launch an arrow.

Billy hefted Tick Licker in Mingo's direction, and fired.

The Cherokee's knees began to sag, but Tommy stuck up a huge hand and shouted, "Mingo!"

In a second, Mingo tossed the bow and quiver to Tommy. In another second, Tommy nocked an arrow on the bowstring, and fired the deadly missile straight into Billy's evil heart while turkey feathers still floated in the air.

Then it was over.

Mingo sank to the floor and lay there panting. Daniel, who had seen but not believed his eyes, sat in stunned silence. Tommy withdrew both knives from Billy's belt, retrieved the tomahawk, and cut through Daniel's bonds carefully. Then the boy hurried over to Mingo, dropped to his knees, and cradled the Cherokee. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Do you think you can forgive me now for hurting you, Mingo?" the boy blubbered.

Daniel had seldom seen Mingo look worse. He sported a black eye and a split lip, but his smile was warm.

"I forgave you long ago, Tommy," Mingo said and passed out. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The nightmare was over. The rain finally stopped pounding, the river's level began to drop back to normal, the sun was shining brightly. They remained in the cave for another day to recuperate from the horror that had been Billy Baggett. By then, Daniel had a black eye to match Mingo's.

While Mingo and Tommy both slept deeply, Daniel carried Billy's body far back into the cave and dropped it into a bottomless hole. Freed of his evil presence, Tommy could pretend Billy had never existed.

Daniel and Mingo sat sharing a pot of coffee while Tommy tried his hand at fishing. None of them felt like eating turkey.

"Daniel, what will become of Tommy?" Mingo questioned. "Surely the fact that the boy saved my life twice is more important than the letter of the law! If I choose not to press charges, how can there be any crime? I believe that he is 'more sinned against than sinning', Daniel."

"Mingo," smiled Daniel, "You're preachin' to the choir. As the magistrate in Boonesborough, I'd already decided to let the boy go. I'm guessin' he ain't never been simple-minded, just misled by Billy and cowed down. There's no more meanness in Tommy than there is in Israel!"

"Yes," Mingo agreed. "Tommy reminds me very much of Israel."

"What'll become of him, Mingo? From what he's said, he ain't got any kinfolks to go to."

"If his grandmother was indeed Cherokee, Daniel, he would be welcomed at Chota. I will speak to the Beloved Women to see if any remember a woman called 'Smiling Dove.'"

Daniel nodded. The Cherokees were a matrilineal tribe. All of the Cherokee took their rank from their mothers, not the fathers. In fact, the Cherokee Daniel knew counted only maternal relatives as true kin. Anyone born of a Cherokee mother was considered a true Cherokee. Cherokee women were given all respect, as they owned the lodges, fields, crops and even children. Cherokee men owned nothing except their weapons and hunting skill. The "Beloved Women" Mingo spoke of were the true peace leaders of the tribe, deciding everything from what crops should be planted to the names given newborn infants.

"Pretty clever of a 'fool' to sing that song, Mingo. Coulda knocked me down with one of them turkey feathers when he started singin' in Cherokee. His Cherokee's near as good as mine!" Daniel said reminiscently.

"His is better, actually," Mingo said and laughed at Daniel's chagrined expression.

They broke off their conversation as Tommy came in whistling, holding a string of fish.

"Mingo and me were just sayin' how well you talk Cherokee, Tommy," Daniel said.

"That was me 'n Granny's secret talk," Tommy sat down and began threading a stick through the heads of the fish. "Been talkin' it since I was just a sprat. We allus talked secret talk 'tween ourselves. I knew it was Injun, but she never said she was Cherokee. Mingo bein' Cherokee started me thinkin' and wondrin' if Granny might could be too."

Daniel nodded, "It was lucky for Mingo that you were right."

Tommy finished his work and propped the fish over the fire. "Guess I'm pretty good with a hook, as well as a bow, huh, Mr. Boone?" he boasted. "Sure was lucky for Mingo that ol' Billy never was much of a hand with a gun, huh? I figured y'all didn't know Billy couldn't see any better'n them dumb old turkeys! That's why I use a bow – Billy couldn't never hit anything with a rifle ball!"

"Including me," Mingo smiled. "I thank the Creator for my good fortune, Tommy," he added, touching a finger to his split lip.

"You'd better thank the Creator that these black eyes of ours will get a chance to fade before Becky Boone gets a gander at 'em." Daniel added. His eye was nearly as colorful as Mingo's, almost iridescent in lurid shades of purple, pink, red and blue.

"Rebecca will be so pleased to see you, Daniel, she won't notice a black eye! I suggest we allow Tommy to sample your wife's cooking before we head for Chota."

Daniel nodded his agreement, "A capital idea, Mingo."

"What's 'Chota'?" Tommy questioned. The boy was a quick study, eagerly learning every trick of woodcraft Daniel and Mingo showed him.

Mingo smiled. "I think it will be your idea of heaven, Tommy."

*********

Becky Boone straightened up from bending over the wash tub in front of the cabin. Her hands went to the small of her back as she stretched. She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and sighed. She looked up the trail toward Boonesborough for the thousandth time. How she wished Daniel and Mingo would return! What a struggle it was to fetch enough water to fill the wooden wash tubs, and how wonderful to have a strong Kentuckian to fetch it for her. Her own strong Kentuckian, she reminded herself, was usually least in sight when chores needed doing. She had learned to depend on herself, and she would make sure Jemima also learned self-sufficiency.

The fresh green buds on the trees reminded her that three long months had passed since Daniel and Mingo departed for Philadelphia. She had received a scrawled missive almost a month before. Cincinnatus hurried from the fort to fetch it to her, then dilly-dallied until Becky broke the seal and read it aloud. The handwriting was not Daniel's neat copperplate but an illegible scribble that Becky assumed was Mingo's. It read simply, "Leaving Phila., having seen Dr. Jedrick. Furs sold well. M." At the very end, the words "Love to All. D. Boone" were written in Daniel's familiar hand. She wished the dratted men had mentioned how soon they would return!

She called over her shoulder, "Jemima Boone! I need your help! Israel, fetch me more water now!"

The children came out of the cabin yawning. Suddenly Jemima let out a scream. Israel dumped the bucket of water and ran after Jemima. Becky looked to see what had her children in such a tizzy.

Three dusty trail-worn travelers were coming down the path from Boonesborough.

"Oh, Dan, you're here at last!" Becky fell sobbing into Daniel's arms.

Jemima and Israel swarmed over Mingo with hugs and shouts of happiness. Mingo ruffled Israel's white blond hair, laughing.

Behind them, a very tall boy hesitated, uncertain of his welcome.

With the bluntness of youth, Israel blurted. "Who's that, Pa?"

Daniel beckoned Tommy forward. "This is the young feller who saved Mingo's life. Not just once but twice."

Above the excited buzz from Becky and the children, Mingo added, "This is Master Thomas Talltrees. You may call him Tommy."

Becky noticed Daniel's eye suddenly, "Why, Daniel Boone, what happened to your eye? And why does Mingo have a black eye too? Were you two playing again?"

"It's a very long story, Rebecca," Mingo began, but Daniel interrupted.

"Honey, could you fix some starvin' fellers somethin' to eat first?"

"I have a stew cooked that I'd intended for supper-" Becky began, but Mingo interrupted with a war whoop of happiness.

"Stew! Rebecca Boone, you have saved my life all over again. Another few days of Daniel's cooking would have sent me to the Happy Hunting Grounds!"

Becky and the children kept them company while they ate. Becky was astonished at the amount of food Tommy ate. She said, "Tommy, you're like a bottomless pit!"

"No, ma'am," Tommy said seriously. "You don't know nothin' about bottomless pits."

**********

After the meal, Daniel, Becky, and Mingo sat on the benches on the Boones' porch, drinking cider and eating the cookies that Becky baked in honor of their homecoming. Jemima watched her brother and Tommy Talltrees rolling around in the dirt in front of the cabin, shouting and laughing as they scuffled. In spite of the huge difference in their size, Tommy and Israel were kindred spirits. Though they looked like toys in Tommy's huge hands, Israel finally learned how to use his bow and arrows.

Jemima seemed fascinated by the sheer size of the boy. The fact that Tommy had thick black hair and enormous brown eyes like a certain Cherokee of their acquaintance hadn't escaped her attention either. Jemima blushed every time Tommy spoke to her.

Daniel said drily, "Is this the end of your romance with Flanders Calloway, 'Mima?"

"Oh, Pa!" Jemima blushed angrily and flounced into the cabin. The door slammed behind her, and Mingo and Becky exchanged amused glances.

Mingo snickered and said, "How will you feel about having a son-in-law who stands a head taller than you do, Daniel? Would you still be regarded as 'tall as an oak tree' with Thomas Talltrees a family member?"

Becky shook her head, "It's just a lover's spat," she said with calm assurance, "She and Flanders will fall back into love as quickly as they fell out."

Mingo rolled his eyes at Daniel doubtfully, and Daniel laughed. "You'll be headin' for Chota soon, won't you? Outta sight, outta mind!"

"Yes, indeed," Mingo said, rising to his feet smoothly. "With your permission, Rebecca, Daniel, I would like to take Tommy to Chota today and introduce him to my people. I believe we may discover that they are Tommy's people too."

*******  
Two long weeks had passed since Mingo and Tommy had waved their goodbyes to Daniel and Becky and the children and continued on to Chota.

Mingo arrived, without Tommy, to report that several of the beloved women of his people remembered a young woman named Smiling Dove. She had left her people to marry a white trader, known only as Tall-as-the-Trees, the name by which Smiling Dove had referred to him. Tommy's mother, born of Smiling Dove, was considered Cherokee so there would be no problem in Tommy being accepted at Chota. Tommy would find a home at Chota, at last. Almost as an afterthought, Mingo added that Tommy had found favor in the eyes of his cousin, Tekawitha, who professed herself fascinated by Tommy's moccasins.

Mingo then smilingly invited the Boones to come to a festival at Chota five days' hence. He was certain they would enjoy themselves, he added.

The First New Moon of Spring Festival, celebrating the return of green life to the earth had ended. Now it was time for the Friends Made ceremonies. There would be four days of celebration. The first three days, Mingo told them, would be for his people only. The first day would be devoted to building the ceremonial fire and getting game for the feast. Seven men would prepare white deer skins, which would be presented to the priests at the end of the festival. Seven men were in charge of the festival, and seven men would see to food preparation for the tribe. In the evening of the first day, Cherokee women would perform friendship dances. On the second day, all would go to the river for the ritual purification, bathing seven times. On the third day, the entire tribe would fast for a day.

"On the fourth day, everyone will dance," Mingo said, smiling. "There will be a feast after the ceremony ends."

"Will you dance too, Mingo?" questioned Israel. "I ain't never seen you dancin'."

"I ain't never seen him dancin' either, Israel," admitted Daniel, with a mischievous grin. "I reckon I don't believe he can."

Mingo blushed, but answered steadfastly, "Come to Chota, Daniel, and you will see if I can dance or not."

Now, five days later, the Boones were sitting on the skin of the bear that had mauled Mingo two winters before. Though spring was in full bloom, the air was still cool, and Rebecca and Jemima were glad for the warmth of the fur under their skirts. Darkness was falling, Israel was drowsing on the bearskin, leaning up against Daniel. The child had spent the day rough-housing with Tommy and engaging in contests with the Indian boys who were not involved in the ceremonies. The smell of kinnikinnick, Indian tobacco, was heavy in the air, and a great number of the Indians not dancing were smoking and spitting noisily, to the carefully hidden disgust of Daniel's womenfolks.

Suddenly, as night fell, Cherokee drums began to pound. The rhythmic pounding roused Israel from his dozing. Rebecca and Jemima sat up higher in expectation. The dancing was about to begin.

Selected Cherokee women suddenly rose and began to dance. Their dancing was stately and rhythmic. The women stepped out slowly in time to the pounding of the groundhog skin drums; the dance was accompanied by the chanting of a caller. This dance lasted about 15 minutes. The older warriors of the tribe came next in a dignified gentlemen's dance. This dance too was slow and rhythmic. The dancers' movements mimicked the hunting and fighting of a warrior's life.

All at once, the tempo of the drums changed. It grew louder, more insistent. Mingo stepped from his lodge. This was the first time the Boones had seen him since their arrival at Chota earlier in the day. Daniel knew his friend had spent the day ritually bathing seven times in the river to purify himself.

Rebecca and Jemima gasped in surprise. Israel blurted out, "Criminetly!"

Though it was Mingo, this was a Mingo they had never seen. The Cherokee was dressed as never before. He wore a breechcloth and fringed leggings instead of his usual blue linsey-woolsey trousers. The breechcloth was ornately decorated and hung past his knees in front and back. Over his bare chest, he wore a breastplate of hair pipe beads and leather. On his head, he wore a roach, made of porcupine quills and the hair from a deer's tail. His usual feathers were in his hair too. Though Daniel and Israel had seen him in war paint before, Jemima and Rebecca had never seen their Cherokee friend look so savage. Mingo's face wore broad stripes of black paint, and his arms and shoulders were spotted with daubs of paint too. He carried a wand adorned with feathers in one hand. In the other was a small shield. Turtle shell rattles were tied to his ankles. Hanging down behind him was a bustle made of eagle feathers. There was not a trace of the Englishman Mingo had been raised to be.

He was the embodiment of a Cherokee warrior.

Mingo did not acknowledge the Boones. Instead he walked past them and stepped into the huge circle of grass beaten down for the dancing. The tempo changed, and Mingo began to dance. His steps started out slow, stomping firmly and deliberately. The shell rattles on his ankles added to the beat of the drums and the chanting of the caller. The bustle of feathers attached to his belt bounced with every dancing step.

Daniel began to interpret the dance for his family as Mingo danced rhythmically. As he stepped and spun, Daniel spoke. "He's tellin' a tale of the hunt. He never spins in a complete circle. That would show that he's lost. He never dances backward; that would show cowardice. He always dances forward, meetin' challenges head on. The two feathers Mingo wears show that he's a warrior and has provided for his tribe."

The warrior Mingo was completely lost to the rhythm of the music. Oblivious to everything else, he postured, swooping, rising, hopping, moving his arms with grace, never losing the beat of the music. His movements told the eternal tale of hunting deer and fighting with enemies. Stooping and spinning, waving the wand, Mingo kept time to the music. As the beat of the drums grew faster, Mingo's stomping steps did too. He went round and round the circle without faltering, never missing a beat or a step, his long hair swinging and blowing in the breeze. Daniel was not surprised in the least to see that Mingo danced with the same single-minded concentration he did everything else.

Daniel looked at his family. Rebecca's eyes were huge as she stared, spellbound by Mingo's obvious skill. Jemima and Israel wore matching expressions of astonishment. Daniel reached over and gently closed Israel's gaping mouth.

After Mingo had danced for a while, other warriors danced out to join him, all telling the tale of the life of the Cherokee. Suddenly the dance ended abruptly. Mingo sank to one knee and bowed his head.

Mingo soon came to join them, panting slightly and perspiring in spite of the coolness of the air. As he stood in front of them, Becky slowly looked him up and down, from his moccasins, to the ornate breechcloth, past the turtle shell rattles to the bone and beads of his breastplate, the bustle of feathers, up to the roach headdress. She winked and gave him a cheeky grin,. Mingo blushed furiously.

Daniel grinned, "All right, Mingo. I take my cap off to you. You can indeed dance."

Israel said, "Criminetly! I seen it, but I still don't believe it! You look like you could scalp somebody!"

Becky said, "Your mother would be so pleased, Mingo! I never dreamed you could dance like that!"

"Thank you, Rebecca." Mingo grinned. "Though I doubt that my dear father would be pleased to see the heir to an earldom dancing like a heathen!"

The Boones all moved closer to make room, and Mingo sat down on a corner of the bearskin. He watched closely as the next few groups of dancers finished their dances and stepped off the green.

"That's quite a getup you've got there," Daniel said, pointing to Mingo's dancing attire.

"Thank you, Daniel," Mingo said, without taking his eyes off the green. "Wait until you see the next dancer!"

The Cherokees all sat up and began clapping their hands rhythmically as a solitary dancer bent low and stepped out of Mingo's lodge. Mingo rose suddenly. The rest of the Indians seated around the dancing area were clapping their hands, and Mingo nodded to the Boones to indicate that they should join in the clapping.

The lone dancer stepped onto the green and looked around uncertainly. It was Tommy. Mingo moved to the green, clapping rhythmically. He nodded encouragingly to Tommy, and began to chant in Cherokee.

Tommy began to dance. For one so huge, his steps were surprisingly lithe. Tommy showed none of the grace and precision that Mingo and the other dancers had shown, but made up for his lack of skill with sheer exuberance. A huge smile split the boy's face as he danced round and round the green by himself. The rest of the Cherokees clapped loudly and roared their approval as Tommy danced.

Daniel interpreted Mingo's words for his wife and children. "Mingo's singin' 'Me, I am Cherokee. I am of the real people. The mountains are my home. I am Cherokee. I am of the real people.' He's sayin' the same thing over and over. He's singin' for both Tommy and himself. This is the Makin' Friends Dance."

Another warrior suddenly took over the chanting, and Mingo stepped back on to the green and joined Tommy in the dance. Tommy continued to dance exuberantly, and Mingo matched his steps to the boy's. This time his dancing held none of the dignity or ritual of the warrior dance he had just performed. These steps simply spoke of the joy of living, happiness, homecoming and the certainty of belonging. As Mingo and Tommy danced around the green, Daniel suddenly noticed the moccasins Mingo was wearing. Covered with beads, bearing extraordinary patterns of stars, flowers, in the brightest colors imaginable, they were the very moccasins Mingo had said no self-respecting Indian would wear. And they matched the pair that Tommy was wearing. Exactly.

Mingo was smiling and beckoning to them as he danced past. Tommy too was waving an invitation. The Cherokees sitting around the dancing green got up and began to pour on to the field, clapping and chanting, dancing too. Daniel grinned broadly and held his hands out to Rebecca. Israel held his hands out to Jemima. And the Boones joined the joyful dance.

The End


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